


Palm Trees

by cakeby_thepound



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Past Character Death, Richonne - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:31:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 121,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9420746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeby_thepound/pseuds/cakeby_thepound
Summary: Rick and Michonne have been friends for years. They've seen one another through everything – marriage, divorce, new life, and even death. Now, as they look to leave the past behind, an island getaway with their closest friends may prove to be a second chance at life. And a first chance at romance… if they're willing to take it. (Richonne AU.)





	1. Prologue

 

_Vzzt vzzt, vzzt vzzt._

Rick's phone vibrated against his bedspread just as he'd finished cramming one final item into his small, overstuffed suitcase – a razor he'd gotten from a friend years ago. He smiled as he noted the caller, _Michonne Diarra would like FaceTime_ appearing at the top of the screen; his favorite picture of her staring back at him. With a cursory glance into his dresser mirror, finger-combing his curls into place, he held his phone a courteous few inches from his face and answered the call. "Well good mornin'," he breezily greeted her with a smile in his voice. He noted the way she was dressed in turquoise, with a headscarf colored in different yellows, oranges and blues, and she looked like the embodiment of the tropical island she inhabited, her smile bright as the sun. He was so glad to see her.

"Good morning," she replied in her own chipper tone. Her grin felt wider than usual, perhaps because she was happier than usual, knowing that within a few hours' time, she'd be seeing her friend in person for the first time in a long time. And she was glad that he looked good. Well-rested. Maybe even happy? "You guys all packed and ready to go?"

He chuckled at her peppiness as he turned the camera to his full suitcase for proof before answering. "Just finished."

"Nicely done," she grinned, even noticing how neatly he'd packed his bag with it filled to the brim. "Is that the razor I gave you?"

"It is." He returned the view to himself to continue their conversation, surprised when another familiar face popped into frame, just beside Michonne. His best friend's sister. "Hey, Carol."

She offered a quick wave before pushing her sunglasses up from her face to get a better look at her friend. "Hey, you."

"You look tan," he grinned at the sight of her. She also had a brightly colored scarf wrapped around her short gray hair, and it was clear the ladies were truly embracing the place they now called home, which made him happy to see. "Is this why you don't answer anyone's calls nowadays? Too busy on the beach?"

"I'm sorry, I've actually been rather busy helping run a successful business," she teased, glancing over to Michonne. "Right?"

"That is… right," Michonne confirmed, chuckling at their banter.

"Seriously though, we can't wait to see you," Carol appended, her gaze turning earnest.

"We can't wait to see you," Rick returned, finding himself staring at Michonne as she rested her arm on Carol's shoulder. He literally shook his head, attempting to relinquish his daze. "Atlanta just hasn't been the same without you."

Carol offered her warm grin in reply as she asked, "What time does your flight get in?"

"Right around four-thirty," he nodded, envisioning the times printed on his family's tickets. "We're on the same flight with Shane and Andrea."

"4:26," Michonne submitted. She'd etched the time into her mind the first time Rick told her. "I'll be there in my ugly little van."

"Well," Carol cleared her throat, noting the incessant smiles being exchanged between Rick and Michonne, "I have a little munchkin to teach, so I'm gonna leave you two to it."

"I'll be there soon," Michonne promised as she watched her friend hop up. "And please tell him that that entire multiplication worksheet better be done when I get there."

"Yes, Ms. Diarra."

"Stop calling me that."

"Okay, Mom."

Rick chuckled at their conversation, imagining this as their regular routine nowadays, and he waited for Carol to disappear before continuing with their own discussion. "Besides apparently not doin' his homework, how is Andre?"

"Oh, he's good," she grinned like the proud mom that she was. "He's really good, aside from this whole thing we have going on with his math lessons."

"What's the 'thing'?" he prodded. "He doesn't like it?"

"He _hates_ it, Rick."

"Well that sounds a lot like you," he laughed, "so you can't really blame him."

"I _know_. It makes it so frustrating, because I know exactly how he feels, but I still have to be tough on him." She shook her head at the situation, but quickly shifted gears to his side of the equation. "Anyway. Where are my babies?"

Rick couldn't help but smile at the way Michonne always referred to her godchildren as her own. Of course, he knew she meant it in a playful way, but it was exactly why he and Lori had chosen her in the first place. They knew she would love them with everything she had. As hers. "They're both probably somewhere on some device," he said, sauntering across his giant bedroom to head into their hallway. "Carl!" he called into the house. "Judith!"

Immediately, he heard the sound of little feet racing across their hardwood floors, and he chuckled as his daughter appeared, sporting one of the bathing suits he'd packed in her suitcase. "Yes, Daddy?"

"What are you wearin'?"

"You said we were going to the beach," Judith reminded him. "So I put on my bathing suit."

"Okay, well we're gettin' on a plane first, so I need you to get dressed in your regular clothes, sweetheart."

" _Daddy_ ," she sighed dramatically, resting her hands on her hips.

Just then, Carl came meandering into the hallway with his mouth full of food, oblivious to the situation at hand. "What's up?"

"Michonne wanted to say hello," he commented, passing his iPhone to Judith first. "Say hi and then go change," he quietly instructed her. "I laid out the clothes on your dresser."

She happily took the phone into her little hands, brightly smiling when she saw the image of her godmother staring back at her. "Hi, Auntie!"

"Hey, chickpea!" Michonne cooed, already giggling at the way Judith held the phone much too close to her adorable face. "I can't wait to see you today!"

"Me too," she nodded excitedly. "Daddy said you have a beach."

"Well the beach belongs to everyone," she laughed, "but it is right outside here." She hopped up from her chair and walked over to one of her many balconies, where Judith would be able to see the ocean in the background. "It's like my front yard."

"Wow," the five-year-old beamed at the gorgeous sight.

"Judith, go get dressed," Carl cut in, wanting to talk to his godmother before it was time to go.

"I'm on the phone," she frowned up at him, offended that he dared to interrupt her.

"Dad said to go change."

"Okay, okay," she sighed again, begrudgingly looking back at the phone in her hands. "I have to go, Auntie."

Michonne chuckled at her disappointment, but made sure to keep her tone cheerful. "All right, sweetie. I'll see you in just a few hours, okay?"

"Okay!" She waved back at her as Carl took the phone, and she gleefully scampered off to her room, knowing that she would see her extended family soon enough.

"She's such a weirdo," Carl commented, raising the phone to his face.

Michonne grinned back at him, happy to see her buddy again for the first time in nearly a month. She marveled at the way he looked more and more like his mother every time she laid eyes on him. "You leave your sister alone," she pretended to scold him, despite her expression betraying her. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he nodded, blindly making his way down the hallway, back to his own room. "Mostly just glad to be out of school for a few weeks."

"Oh, so you're not excited to see me?"

"Of course I am," he frowned. "If it weren't for you, I'd be complaining about having to spend my whole Christmas break away from all my friends."

"Oh, woe is you," she playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Only a teenager would complain about spending two weeks in Anguilla."

He chuckled in response even though she was making fun of him – she had a habit of doing that, he'd noticed. "How 'bout you, how are you and Andre?"

"Oh, we're really good," she assured him. "It's busy around here this time of year, so for the past few weeks, I've just been trying to get everything ready for all you guys."

"Dad said you were shutting the whole place down for us," he recalled with a small frown. "Is that gonna be bad for business?"

"Well it probably won't help," she admitted, smiling, "but we've been very lucky that people seem to love the place. And we're booked through next August, so…"

"Whoa, that's awesome."

"It is." Michonne's smile turned a bit somber then, inwardly wishing Lori could've been there to see it happen - it was half her idea, after all. But at least her children would get to enjoy it, she figured. It could be theirs someday if they wanted it. "So is there anything you need while you're down here? Any snacks I should stock up on?"

"Well I definitely need my Cinn-"

"Besides Cinnamon Toast Crunch," she cut him off, knowing all too well that the kid wouldn't eat anything else for breakfast. "I have that in spades, just for you."

"Well I'm good then," he smiled, satisfied.

"You sure?" she began to tease. "Because it looks like I need to find some clippers to take to that head."

Carl chuckled again, having already figured that she was going to give him shit about his long hair. He hadn't cut it in several months, much to his dad's chagrin, too. "I'm not cutting it, Michonne."

"What? Like, ever?"

"For as long as Dad will let me."

"Lord," she shook her head at the idea of him walking around with that mop of hair. "We'll have to talk about that when you get here."

"Okay, but... I have something else I wanna talk to you about while I'm there."

"Okay..." Michonne immediately turned serious, frowning at his strange change in tone, paired with the words that came along with it. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine," Carl nodded. "It's just something I'd rather talk to you about than with my dad."

She shrugged, trying her best to keep up her cool aunt persona, though his secrecy was making it difficult. "If you say everything is okay, I guess I have to believe you."

"Yep, you do."

"So are you all packed?" she asked, attempting to peer into his room in the background.

"And ready to go." He spun the phone to show her his zipped suitcase and backpack, his laptop sitting on top of the latter as it finished charging. "I think we're leaving pretty soon."

"All right," she sighed, satisfied with the scene at hand. "Take me back to your dad so I can make sure he has everything, too."

Carl smirked at her instruction, knowing she was the one person left in the world that could and would successfully keep his father on track. He headed out of his room and across the landing to where his dad's was situated. "All right, Michonne, I'll see ya later."

Rick was busy getting his carry-on situation situated, pulling the final trip item from his fireplace before turning back to his approaching son.

"She wants to talk to you again," Carl informed him, handing over the phone.

"Thank you," he nodded. "Do me a favor and get you and your sister's stuff downstairs. I'm gonna get an Uber soon as I finish up in here."

"Okay, Dad."

Rick watched as his son left the room, quickly and self-consciously brushing his hair back once more before facing Michonne again with a smile. "Hey."

"Hey. I just wanted to make sure you didn't forget the most important thing," she declared a bit cryptically. And she wasn't sure why, considering everyone, including the kids, knew exactly what was going on that week.

"Yes, I have our passports," he joked, figuring she probably wasn't referring to that.

She rolled her eyes, not wanting to laugh at his dorkiness, yet she was unable to help herself, even in what should've been a serious moment. But she sobered herself in order to get to the point. "I meant her ashes, Rick."

"Yeah," he nodded, staring at the small airplane-friendly urn sitting on his bed. "Just got them off the mantle."

"Okay." She gazed back at him sympathetically, taking in his thoughtful expression. She wondered what was on his mind with all this, and couldn't wait for him to get down there so they could truly talk. The way they used to. "I can't believe I get you guys for two whole weeks." She tried to be bubbly and happy again, but it was clear they were both thinking about Lori now, and it wasn't going away.

"I've been lookin' forward to this for a while now," he agreed. "It'll be good to be with you again."

She offered a small smile in reply, but a strange feeling came over her as his words settled into her mind. Not quite butterflies, but something akin to it. She was excited to spend time with all her friends, but there was an undeniable yet unexpected elation, a giddiness about getting to see _Rick_. "Umm, so I guess I'll let you go?" she finished awkwardly, unsure how to cap off the conversation in light of her small epiphany.

"I'll call you soon as we land."

"And I'll be there at 4:26," she nodded.

He found himself smiling again, just as his doorbell rang, and he wanted so badly to ignore it, not wanting to rush the end of his call with Michonne, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Their interactions lately always seemed to be that way, though – he was always left wanting more. "I should get that," he said, his tone dipped in disappointment.

Michonne nodded again, waving just her fingers in an attempt at a casual goodbye. "Have a safe flight."

"Have a good morning," he nodded back. "See you soon." He was slow to end the call as he headed out of his room, peeking over the balcony of the steps to view the visitor Carl had let into the house. It was their neighbor and friend, Jessie, looking like she'd just come from one of her daily runs. "Hey," he called down to her.

She glanced up to the sound of his voice, an instant, wide grin on her face at the sight of his. "Hey, Rick," she waved. "Missed you on our run today."

He chuckled, trying and failing to think of something witty to say in response. "Yeah, we're about to head out in a couple of minutes, so…"

"I see that," she nodded, taking a glance at the kids' suitcases at the door. "Makes me wish I was leaving today."

"Well… just another week and you will be."

"No, I know," she granted with a nod. She was still in such disbelief that Rick Grimes had invited her on this trip with all his friends, she wasn't quite sure how to act around him. Stumbling over words and constantly putting her foot in her mouth. "Besides, the weather's been so nice here lately, who'd wanna leave?"

Rick cocked his head to the side, unsure of quite how to respond to that one at all. "Yeah, I guess that's true..."

"That came out wrong," she shook her head, smiling bashfully. "I can't wait to join you guys. I just mean… I can wait."

He laughed awkwardly, noting that she seemed nervous for some reason, which was making him the same. "I'm gonna – I'm gonna grab my bag," he said, pointing back into his bedroom. "I'll be right down."

Jessie nodded again, watching as he disappeared and she was left only with Rick's son, who'd been standing there, simply observing, it seemed. "So I guess I'll get to hang out with you next week, too," she submitted, her eyebrows raised in mild excitement.

"Guess so," he answered flatly. He hated when she tried to make small talk with him, which was something she did often, so he was quick to excuse himself from the situation. "I'm gonna make sure Judith's ready," he mumbled before dashing off.

Back upstairs, Rick was staring at the bags on his bed, and more specifically, the one containing the remains of his wife, feeling frozen in place as he contemplated what he was about to do. He'd been both dreading and anticipating this trip for months now, because the idea of saying this final goodbye to Lori felt freeing. And because he knew himself well enough to know that he didn't necessarily want to be free. But after two years, he probably needed to be.

With a giant sigh and a stray tear that he quickly wiped away, he zipped up his carry-on bag and hoisted it onto his back before picking up his suitcase. "Here we go."


	2. Damn Good Friends

The island of Anguilla was quite remarkable in its beauty. Captivating. Rick could tell even from his tiny window view from the plane. The water was impossibly blue, except at the shores, where the shallow tides met the white sand, turning the edges of the land a magnificent turquoise color. Michonne had sent him tons of pictures of the place in the months that she'd been there, but as with anything gorgeous, they didn't do it justice. Mere postcards of the world's wonders. He could even feel it in the air as he stepped onto the tarmac at the airport, feeling as though he'd stumbled into paradise. The sun at the top of the sky, the perfectly warm, soft breeze whisking through his t-shirt. In an instant, he'd forgotten that it was the end of December; it felt more like some perfect summer day in June.

After a relatively quick jaunt through customs and two stops for bathrooms and baggage, the group of five made their way outside the quiet airport to find their ground transportation. And just as promised, Michonne was there, accompanied by what did turn out to be a rather ugly white Toyota van – it certainly didn't help that it was juxtaposed against the wonder that was Michonne. Rick caught her smile immediately and sent a reserved one back, just as Judith let go of her father's hand to make a beeline for her godmother.

"Auntie!" she shouted excitedly, her sandals clacking against the pavement as she ran.

Michonne was quick to kneel to her level, scooping Judith into her arms the second she reached her. She squeezed her tight, inundating her with playful cheek-kisses while Judith giggled. "Hi, my little chickpea."

"Hi," she grinned back, staring into Michonne's eyes once they pulled apart. She rested her little hand on her 'aunt's warm cheek, studying her face as if she never wanted to forget it. Just in case. "Did you miss me?"

"I missed you _so_ much," she promised, leaving another quick kiss on her nose. With Judith's arm wrapped around her neck, she began to saunter toward the rest of the approaching group. Smiling at how much Carl had grown since the last time she saw him – he was nearly the same height as his dad now; she chuckled at the way Andrea waddled down the sidewalk with that beautiful giant belly; Shane just beside her with that ever-present shit-eating grin on his face, having traded his wavy black locks for a buzz cut, while Rick seemed to have collected all the hair his best friend shed, his brown hair curling past the back of his beloved UGA cap. And he still had that walk, she noticed, moseying her way like some kind of cowboy. "Oh my god!" she shrieked once Andrea got closer, her stomach arriving before she did. "There's no way you're only six months."

"This is what twins do to your body, apparently," Andrea shook her head, the two of them quickly embracing with a cheek-kiss. "You look fantastic, as usual."

"As do you," Michonne assured her, helpfully wiping strands of her blond hair from her glistening forehead. "How were the flights?"

"Long," she sighed. She took a step back to point out her swollen ankles with pure disgust written all over her face. "Look at this."

"Those are cankles," Judith made sure to inform everyone, mimicking Andrea's choice of words when they debarked from their flight.

"You hush," Michonne chuckled, grinning at Shane as he made his way up to her. "Hello, Mr. Walsh."

"Hey, girl," he smirked. He went for a quick hug and kiss combo before taking Judith off her hands so that she could greet the others. "You came to the islands and got skinny, I see."

"Oh, please," she giggled, knowing she had done nothing but gain weight since she arrived – all in good places, at least. She ran a hand over his nearly-bald head, the two of them laughing when Judith mimicked her. "I leave Atlanta and you lose all your hair?"

"I just felt like a change," he shrugged.

"He means to say he lost a bet with me," Carl interjected, maneuvering between the adults to get a hug in with his godmother. "Hey."

"Hey, sweetie," Michonne grinned, offering him her tightest embrace yet. His hair was so long it brushed her arm when they hugged, and she took it into her fingers as they separated. "So I'm guessing he was trying to get you to cut this, too," she teased.

"Tried and failed," Carl confirmed with a smug grin. "I dunno why everyone is so adamant about this, but I'm not gonna budge."

"Because you look like a dirty hipster," Andrea inserted from behind Shane. "Soon as I get the chance, I'm gonna cut it in your sleep."

"All right, all right," Rick chuckled, literally and figuratively stepping into the conversation. "His hair isn't hurting anybody, maybe don't threaten my kid."

"Thank you, Dad."

"You do need to cut it, though," he made sure to finish, just before his eyes landed squarely on Michonne. They were both wearing sunglasses, so he hoped she couldn't tell he was staring, but it had been so long since he'd seen her in person – almost a year now – it felt a bit surreal to be standing in front of her again. "Hey."

"Hey." Michonne was smiling so hard she could actually feel her cheeks, and she immediately pulled him in for a hug. She happily inhaled him as he wrapped one arm around her neck and the other around her torso, pulling her close, in quintessential Rick Grimes fashion – he gave the best hugs. She gripped his strong shoulders and closed her eyes, relishing in the familiarity of it all; the memories that washed over her as she took in his scent. And the way he squeezed her and didn't immediately let go, she could tell that he needed it, too. Finally, though, the two of them did pull apart, Rick's facial hair tickling Michonne's face as he left a quick kiss on her cheek, and she stood back to get a good look at his handsome face. "You look like you did in college," she noted, mostly due to his longer hair. "Well, with a beard."

"A very gray beard," he submitted with a self-effacing smile to match. Meanwhile, Michonne really did look as young as she did the day they met. Her hair was different – she wore dreadlocks now instead of the braids and twist-outs she sported through law school. But her smile, her shape, her style, it was all the same. "You look amazing," he added, trying his best not to gawk at her figure in the turquoise dress she was wearing.

But Michonne noticed his gaze had obviously gone past her face, and she felt her face grow warm from the attention. "So is this everything?" she gestured to their collection of luggage, attempting to change the subject. "You guys ready to get going?"

"This is it," Carl confirmed. "Dad promised our Christmas gifts would be shipped out later."

She laughed at his skeptical tone, but turned for the van, anxious to get her friends back to the space she now called home. "I can't wait for you guys to see the place."

"The pictures you've sent look absolutely beautiful, Michonne," Andrea said, following behind her.

"They don't even tell you the half of it," she replied, helping her friend into the car before stepping inside to prepare Judith's car seat. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but sometimes I think Lori was with me when I found it. It's really everything we wanted it to be."

Andrea smiled back warmly and genuinely, shaking her head. "It doesn't sound ridiculous at all," she assured her. "It sounds beautiful."

* * *

Less than an hour later, the group had made it back to Michonne's place of business and pleasure, and it was, indeed, beautiful. She was right that pictures didn't tell the entire story, because it couldn't. Like Michonne herself, Le Palmier Bed & Breakfast was exquisite. Part bijou hotel, part extravagant guesthouse, the establishment was comprised of ten villas sitting right on the white sands of Rendezvous Bay Beach. The architecture was strikingly modern, with all-white exterior that looked pristine against the backdrop of the cerulean sea. And the interior, reminiscent to Michonne's old home in Atlanta, was full of contemporary but comfortable furniture, African art, Italian stone floors. There was no shortage of balconies and terraces, making for plenty of serene outdoor spaces, all caressed by the sea breeze. And the private villas were all linked by different bridges and walkways, dotted with palm trees and open to the bright blue sky. Not only was the place visually stunning, but after the death of her best friend, among other things, it was truly Michonne's oasis.

"So that's about it," she declared, beaming at her friends. They were standing in the courtyard of the property, amid the seven villas that they would occupy for the next two weeks. "We can get snorkeling equipment, we can order up some massages, fishing boats. Anything you want, you let me or Carol know and we'll take care of it for you."

Andrea was still looking around in awe at this place Michonne had created virtually all on her own. She remembered how insane it all sounded when she said she was leaving behind a partnership at her law firm to open a hotel in Anguilla. But she should've known then that Michonne would succeed at this, same as everything else she'd done in the twenty years she'd known her. Overachieving was in her blood, it seemed. "This is incredible," she told her, shaking her head in disbelief. She added a congratulatory hug for good measure. "God."

"She's right," Shane agreed. "Got me wonderin' why we didn't move down here with you in the first place."

Michonne smiled at them appreciatively, and then looked to Rick, waiting to hear his opinion on the matter. With a sleeping Judith slung over his shoulder, he walked to the edge of the courtyard, where an infinity pool overlooked the ocean. He couldn't believe any of it was real, much less conceived by his very own friend. That this was the vision she and Lori had, and Michonne had brought it to life so magnificently. He was speechless.

She started to ask his opinion since he hadn't yet voiced it, but a familiar giggle tickled her ear, and the next thing she knew, her son was running her way, just ahead of Carol, the two of them wrapped up in their giant beach towels. "There's my little peanut," Michonne grinned as Andre made it to her side. "You have fun?"

"Uh huh," he nodded distractedly as he threw off his wet towel and beach shoes to hand over to his mother. He waved at both Shane and Andrea when he noticed them smiling back at him. "Hi."

"What's up, little man?" Shane returned, kneeling to his level for a low high five. "I think you were about yea high the last time I saw you, you know."

Andre giggled at the exaggeratedly low height only a few inches off the ground, shaking his head. "No I wasn't!"

"Yeah you were," he insisted. "You didn't even come past my knee, man."

"Stop lying," Andrea rolled her eyes and lightly smacked her husband's shoulder. "It's barely been a year."

"Well he grew a lot in a year is all I'm sayin'."

Chuckling at her friends, Michonne pointed her son in Rick's direction, seeing that he'd finished greeting Carol and was waiting for Andre to notice him. "Look who's over there," she whispered.

Andre's face lit up at the sight of his Uncle Rick, along with his best buddy Judith, even if she was too asleep to acknowledge any of them. He immediately ran over to him, attaching himself to one of Rick's thighs in his best version of a hug.

"Hey, buddy," Rick laughed with delight. He wished he didn't have Judith so he could properly embrace him, but he affectionately ran his fingers over his wet hair, satisfied to simply have him close. "How've you been?"

"Good," he nodded, releasing his leg from his grasp.

"Yeah?" Rick used his other hand to wake his daughter, gently shaking her leg to rouse her from her slumber. "What's been good?"

"Umm." Andre stood back to think for a moment, looking up to Rick with his grin full of missing and growing teeth and then shrugged. "Everything's good."

"Everything?" he teasingly narrowed his eyes at him. " _Everything_?"

"Uh huh."

"So you mean to tell me you don't miss me and Judith?" he prodded.

"I do!" Andre promised with a giggle. "I mean _other_ than that."

"Oh, of course," Rick grinned back at him. "We've missed you and your mom a lot." As Judith finally stirred from her nap, he attempted to include her in the conversation. "Haven't we?"

"Hi, Judith," Andre eagerly waved at her.

It took a moment for her to acclimate to her whereabouts and why so many people were surrounding her, but she eventually smiled sleepily when she recognized her friend. "Hi." Of course, once she recognized that he was in his bathing suit and she wasn't, that became the only thing that mattered, and it was like an hour had passed between them instead of a year. "Did you go swimming without me?"

All the adults laughed, while Rick glanced out to the awaiting beach. He couldn't wait to spend the next several days soaking up every bit of this beautiful place. "You'll have plenty of time to go swimming, sweetheart."

"Can we go now?"

Michonne chuckled at her insistence, considering she'd still be knocked out if it weren't for Andre showing up. "Tell you what," she announced to the entire group. "I'm gonna show you all to your rooms, and while your dad gets settled, I'll take you out there."

"You don't have to," Rick replied, though appreciative of the offer. "I know you've got your hands full today."

"It's fine. I have an hour to spare."

"It is fine," Carol coolly submitted from the lounge chair she'd claimed next to an exhausted Andrea. "I can go get Morgan and Jenny from the airport so you can at least get some time to breathe before dinner."

Michonne sent a thankful smile her way, knowing that wasn't the original plan. Carol had really become her right hand in the five months she'd been down there. "Sounds good?" she asked the group, although she mostly just needed the kids' approval. After receiving a collection of nods and yeses in agreement, Michonne grinned again, pleased. "All right. Then we'll meet back here for dinner."

* * *

Another few hours later, the group of ten was situated around the dining room of the chic bed and breakfast, having just enjoyed a delicious dinner of curried goat with pigeon peas and rice, one of Michonne's many specialties. She looked around at everyone's nearly empty plates, feeling quite satisfied with herself as she sat back in her chair. She'd been worried that Judith and perhaps even Carl wouldn't particularly like the opening meal, and she was armed with hot dogs and potato chips if all else failed, but much to her surprise and relief, they dug right in.

"Michonne, you outdid yourself," Morgan proclaimed from the end of the table opposite her. He also sat back in his seat, lazily resting his arm over the back of his wife's chair with a contented sigh. "That goat was as good as my mama used to make."

"That was better than his mama used to make," Jenny cut in, a sarcastic bite to her southern twang before she turned back to her husband. "You know you're the only one that liked her cooking."

"Either way, I'll take the compliment," Michonne grinned.

Shane, however, was quick to jump in to defend his friend and his mother. "Now wait a minute, I used to love Miss Sharon's cookin'. Me and Rick were over there every chance we got, whether Morgan came with us or not."

"I rest my case," Jenny shot back, causing Michonne to snort in response.

"I remember the first time he took us to his house," Rick started to recall, already laughing at the memory of meeting Morgan's mother. "I think it was just me and Shane at first, and then Mike and Daryl came by later. But we walk into the house and Morgan asks Miss Sharon if she made the goat for dinner, and I think my eyes almost popped outta my head. Shane and I spent the entire first half hour or so lookin' at each other like, _How the hell are we gonna get outta here, dude_?" He continued to smile as everyone laughed at his story, and he shook his head, unsure why that memory was so vivid. "We stayed, though, obviously, and it was one of the best meals I'd ever had."

"Probably because your mama can't cook either," Andrea teased him, not even bothering to look up as she scraped her plate.

"Oh god, remember when she made us that rum cake?" Michonne chimed in, cackling. "Whose birthday was that?"

"It was for Shane," Carol supplied, remembering how he ended up leaving it at her house. "It was literally just a Duncan Hines cake doused in rum."

"My mom did not make that cake," Rick insisted between all the laughter. "My mom made the pineapple upside down cake that was not… quite upside down…"

" _Oh_ , yeah," Andrea recalled, pointing her fork at him. "The pineapple right side up cake."

"Lori made that rum cake," he finished, chuckling to himself as he realized that his wife being the culprit probably wasn't any better. "She really wanted to make Shane somethin' homemade, but it was right around the holidays and you all know how she was."

"Tryin' to take care of everyone," Morgan nodded, all of them knowing much too well how Lori Grimes operated.

As the table went quiet, Carl looked around at all his mom's friends, hating how they'd suddenly gone somber likely thinking about her. Given they'd be spreading her ashes in a few days, he knew that a lot of this trip would be about her, and he was looking forward to celebrating her memory. But he much would've preferred to not cry about his dead mother the first night there. "Okay, but she _was_ a terrible baker," he submitted, smiling with relief when everyone laughed at him.

"My girl couldn't even make pancakes," Michonne admitted, laughing as she wiped her mouth. "It was so bad."

"I remember when she wanted to make those cake pops for school and you wouldn't let her," he chuckled. "So then she tried to do the cake in a jar."

"Oh _god_ ," she giggled, thinking of how Lori showed up at her office with a box full of literally half-baked cakes in mason jars. "Your mother. She was a walking Pinterest fail."

"She always tried, though. God love her," Jenny sighed.

"How 'bout a toast to our girl," Shane suggested, already holding up his glass full of rum and coke. "To Rick's girl," he added, glancing over to his quiet friend.

Michonne was second to raise her glass while the rest of the group, including the kids, followed suit. "Here, here."

"To Lori."

"And fuck cancer," Andrea added, oblivious to the kids in the room as she swallowed down her coconut water.

Both Judith and Andre looked up from their preoccupation with coloring the tablecloth, gasping in shock upon hearing the expletive, while Michonne widened her eyes at her friend. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'm so sorry," she covered her mouth, realizing her mistake. She pointed to both the youngsters, narrowing her eyes at them. "Don't say that word, kids."

"Carl says it a lot," Judith declared, pointing accusatorily to her brother.

He sighed in response, shaking his head at his sister's need to needlessly tattle on him. "Thanks, Judith."

"For the record," Shane interrupted as he watched Carl's face turn a blushing shade of pink, "no one is surprised by a fifteen-year-old usin' curse words. Just stick to doin' it with your friends."

"All right," he grinned, although still a bit bashfully.

"Your mother cursed like a sailor," Andrea revealed to him, lowering her voice as if it were a secret between the two of them. "It's in your blood, kiddo."

Carl's face contorted into a confused frown, finding that hard to believe given what he knew about his mother. " _My_ mom?"

"Yep."

"No way."

"Not once you were old enough to understand her," Michonne was quick to clarify. Last thing she wanted him to think was that his mother lived some double life. "But in college? That woman wielded swear words like a sword."

He smiled at the revelation, enjoying hearing about his mother before he came along – he always had. Whenever Michonne talked about their college days, he always got the impression his mom was actually pretty cool. "Nice."

"Hey, where the hell is Daryl," Andrea wondered out loud, noticing the clock in the corner read 8:30pm. "I thought he was getting in like two hours ago."

"He'll be here in the morning," Carol informed the group. "He had to switch flights, said there was some… thing he had to do."

"And he wasn't gonna let us know?"

"He let _me_ know," she shot back. "And now I'm letting you know."

Michonne did her best to suppress her smile, knowing her friend had been talking to Daryl quite a bit since she'd moved to the island. And she always tried to press the issue, but Carol was cagey as ever whenever she brought it up, which only furthered her suspicions. She'd already made a mental note to keep her eye on that once he arrived. "Everything's okay with him?"

"Yep." Carol took a long sip of her drink, avoiding all the other eyes in the room. "So how about that election?" She received a series of groans and eye rolls in response, which only prompted her to dig in. "We can't _not_ discuss it."

"What is there to even discuss? Donald Trump was racist America's wet dream, and they got what they wanted," Andrea said.

"But the fact that he didn't even win the popular vote has to give us _some_ hope, doesn't it?"

"No," Morgan cut in, his tone emphatic. "The Electoral College only works in the GOP's favor, and all it means is that they'll continue to illegitimately win elections, which does not give me hope at all. It's terrifying."

"Not to mention, it shouldn't have even been close," Jenny added in agreement.

Andrea rolled her eyes again as she readjusted in her seat. "If I hear another person say Hillary was just as bad as the pussy grabber, I might actually hit them."

"Really?" Shane chuckled at her use of another obscenity.

"Oh, if the President can say it, I can say it."

Michonne had already noticed that Rick hadn't spoken in several minutes now, and she figured he was off in his own head, probably thinking about Lori. And she didn't want to take that from him, so she didn't interrupt him; tried to ensure that no one else did either. But she didn't realize how far he'd gone until he unexpectedly and quietly excused himself from the table. Worried, she watched him disappear down one of the corridors, wondering whether to go after him, but again, thought it best to leave him be.

Shane considered the same, knowing the rest of the group was probably wondering why he didn't follow. But having been through this a few times before, he explained it away in just a few words: "Just give him a minute."

An awkward silence washed over the table as they waited hopefully for Rick to return, everyone downing their alcohol as they tried to come up with something to say to salvage the conversation. And again, it was Carl to the rescue. "So… do we think the Falcons can make the playoffs?"

"Do not get him started," Andrea sighed, referring to her husband.

Ignoring her, Shane instantly lit up at the mention of his favorite team. "Not only do I think they're gonna make the playoffs, but they're goin' to the Super Bowl, man."

"Man, you've said that every year since Matt started," Morgan reminded him.

"Yeah, but I mean it this year."

Andrea hated to play into Shane's delusions, but she couldn't disagree. "He is having his best year yet, which is pretty impressive nine years in."

"And Julio is un-damn-stoppable."

"If they win these next two games, they're in, right?" Carl questioned.

"Yeah, man. They could finish at the top of our division."

"Could get a bye week the first week of the playoffs," Morgan nodded. "That would help tremendously."

"See," Shane grinned excitedly. "I'mma be honest, I almost want Ty to stay in Atlanta next week. He needs to get that defense together if they wanna win in January."

"Oh, let the man have a week off," Andrea frowned. "I can't even remember the last time Tyreese got to come on vacation with us."

"He invited me and my dad to The Dome when they played the Packers," Carl recalled with a small smile on his face. "We got to hang out in the box and everything. It was awesome."

Michonne was smiling at the exchange amongst her friends, but her real attention was with Rick, wherever he'd gone, and she was finding it difficult to sit there and pretend otherwise. She stood from her chair, running her hand over her son's back as she excused herself, too. "I'll be back in a minute," she softly declared, not wanting to disrupt the entire table. And before anyone could reply, she walked off in the direction Rick went, scanning every nook and cranny of the property for her friend. Eventually, she found him on the terrace outside the lounge area, overlooking the pool. She hesitantly moved to join him, hoping he wouldn't mind the intrusion.

"I'm all right," he announced in a hoarse whisper once she reached him. "I promise."

She placed a comforting hand on his back, noting that he wasn't especially tense the way she was expecting. "Okay," she nodded.

"I just started thinkin' about things, and I needed a minute to myself. I didn't wanna bring everyone down."

"Well just so you know, abruptly leaving in the middle of a conversation doesn't do a lot for people's spirits." She watched him smirk in response, and she began to gently massage his back with her fingers. "I hope you didn't think we were being inappropriate, we just–."

"No," he shook his head. He even closed his eyes, feeling comforted by her touch, the softness of her voice. "It was nice, honestly. You talk about her like she's still here."

"Sometimes I feel like she is," she admitted, smiling back at him. "I can't even delete her from my phone, so sometimes I'll come across her name and her picture, and it takes me a minute to remember..."

"I've gotten used to her not bein' around," he nodded. Though he knew what she was feeling all too well, those first three months after Lori's death being nothing but a series of little reminders that she was gone. "But sometimes little things will creep up. Like Carl will look at me exactly the way she would've. Or Judith needing something from me that I'm completely incapable of doing, and of course Lori was an expert in…"

"Nothing involving baked goods, I'm assuming."

Rick chuckled as he leaned over the railing of the balcony. "No, not that," he agreed. "I'm pretty good at baking, actually."

Michonne gave him a playful but disbelieving look, complete with her raised eyebrow. "Compared to Lori?"

"Compared to anyone," he laughed again. "I'm pretty sure I could hang with Martha Stewart on a good day."

"That sounds like an overstatement," she replied, grinning at him. She was glad to see him laughing so easily; it made it easier to believe him when he said he was all right. "But I'm gonna let you have that."

He shifted his gaze from the water to the woman beside him, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked her up and down, though she seemed oblivious to his stare. "I'll make you somethin'," he eventually offered.

She glanced back at him, baffled, as if he'd just spoken to her in one of the languages she didn't know. "What?" she chirped.

"I'm here for the next two weeks, I'll prove it to you."

"All right." If nothing else, she was impressed with his confidence. It made her want to believe him, even though she had absolutely no reason to. "Just let me know when you wanna use the kitchen."

"I will."

Their mindless conversation soon dwindled to a pleasant silence, the two of them taking in the view of the water, complete with a cool breeze to top off the moment. The sun had set hours ago, so it was nearly pitch black outside, just the light of the moon reflecting off of the endless seascape. Still, it was just as picturesque a scene as its daytime counterpart; perhaps even more so because of the darkness. Rick felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he quickly wiped away before it could develop into a full-blown cry. He'd had enough of those in the past two years. "As much as I wish she could've been here with us," he started to say, his gaze flitting up to the sky as he spoke, "I'm glad I'm here, Michonne. I think I needed this."

Michonne nodded solemnly, closing her eyes as she listened to the waves crashing against the shore. Because she understood what he meant by that – _needing_ this place. There was an emptiness she'd felt, a hole in her soul from Lori's absence, and it was one of the main reasons she decided to move to Anguilla in the first place. She wasn't sure what she'd find there, but she hoped for peace, at the very least, and she'd gotten it, mostly. Away from all the heartbreak she left in Atlanta, every day, a little bit more of that hole filled with the gratification she got from her new life. And maybe for Rick, he would find peace in getting some closure; in letting Lori go. She hoped so, anyway. She opened her eyes to the sight of him still gazing into the distance, and he looked like he was already halfway there. She moved in close to him, smiling when he linked his right arm with her left, and she rested her head on his shoulder, basking in the warmth of his body heat. "I'm glad you're here, too, Rick."


	3. ChampagneChroniKnightcap

After what turned out to be a near-perfect opening night with her friends, Michonne was back at her villa, preparing to retire for the night with a glass of wine and her Kindle, when there was a soft knock at her front door. Despite the midnight hour, she smiled at the interruption, knowing it would be one of her friends on the other side instead of the usual guest intrusion that she'd gotten used to. Her smile only widened when she opened the door to find Rick barefoot on her doorstep, dressed in his pajamas, phone in his hand. "...Hey."

"Hey," he chuckled back, detecting the confusion in her tone. Their dinner had just ended barely thirty minutes ago, so he'd hoped she hadn't gotten too comfortable or fallen asleep yet. She was still sporting her dinner dress, though her hair in its sloppy bun told him she was probably on her way to bed. "I'm sorry for botherin' you this late..."

"No, you're fine," she assured him. She instinctively turned back into her home to make sure Andre hadn't been disturbed, even though he'd been knocked out for a few hours now. "Come on in."

"I just wanted to see if you had an open USB port I could use for the night," he said, holding up his phone with its charging cord wrapped around his hand. "Somehow, my children have taken up all the ones in our room."

Michonne scoffed, all too familiar with how children had a way of taking over everything. "I think I actually have an extra plug you can take," she suggested, stepping aside to welcome him into her villa.

He appreciatively entered her home, an essentially bigger, more ornate version of the other rooms on the property. White leather couches and glass tables, set on top of colorful area rugs, a giant flat screen TV affixed to one wall, and a Christmas tree standing in the opposite corner. He presumed it was fake, but true to Michonne's taste, it was beautifully decorated with white lights and gold ribbon, casting a warm glow throughout the room. "We didn't even get a Christmas tree this year," he commented as he studied the room, referring to the tradition in his own home. "I think I forgot about it."

"Well it's not like you would've been there to enjoy it," she replied, distracted by her task of searching her kitchen. "My tree is your tree."

Listening to her rummage through her drawers, he approached her island counter with an apologetic look - he really didn't mean to completely disrupt her. "'Chonne, I'm really fine with just leaving my phone here. I can pick it up in the morning."

Ignoring him, she scanned her kitchen trying to recall where she would've stored some extraneous iPhone plug, but instead noticed her awaiting wine glass near the sink. "Hey, do you want anything? To drink or to eat or…anything?"

"Oh, I'm still stuffed from dinner," he answered, rubbing his flat stomach. "But I can have whatever you're drinkin'."

She sent a curious look his way, wondering whether he'd suddenly started liking white wine in recent months or if he was just trying to be amenable for her sake. In which case, she wondered why he was acting so strange, being overly polite, as if they were acquaintances instead of close friends. Their year apart seemed to have made him more sheepish around her than she was comfortable with. "Really?" she decided to press him, nodding to the corner of her living room where the bar was set up. "I have everything."

"You have Corona?" he asked, setting down his phone.

With a cheeky smile, Michonne glid across the kitchen to open her refrigerator door, revealing the row of beer bottles lining one of the upper shelves. "Help yourself," she offered, shifting out of his way to open the freezer. "You gonna stay a while?"

Joining her at the fridge, he replied with a bashful chuckle as he grabbed a cold bottle for himself. Suddenly, he felt like the same dorky college kid who got flustered the first time he was invited to Lori and Michonne's dorm room. But he nodded as his gaze fixated on the beer in his hand, thinking about how much he'd missed hanging out with his friend. "Yeah. A little while."

"Good." She instantly found what she was looking for on the top shelf of the freezer, pulling out a large ziplock bag full of brownies to present to Rick. "Have some dessert with me."

His smile widened at the sight of the confection, already rather certain that it was laced with marijuana, as had become a staple in their house while Lori was going through treatment. It was one of very few positive memories he had from that time in their lives. "You're trouble," he smirked, happily taking the bag from her.

"Good trouble," she quipped with an equally sly grin. "You put a couple of those in the microwave," she instructed, "and I'm gonna find you this plug now before I completely forget about it."

"Sounds like a plan," he chuckled, already opening the bag as she wandered off toward the living room. He began to survey the luxe kitchen, questioning where to find plates and a bottle opener, finding irony in the two of them looking for things they weren't quite sure where to find. Though he eventually located the plates, at least, after going through the majority of her cabinets. "You think thirty seconds is good?" he called out, deciding on four brownies for the two of them.

"Maybe twenty," she sent back, though her intonation reflected more of a question than an answer. "I think that's usually what we do."

Rick frowned at her use of 'we,' knowing she couldn't have been talking about Andre. "Does Carol live here with you," he wondered. It didn't seem like she did, but then, he'd missed some parts of the earlier tour, too wrapped up in the scenery to pay attention to all the information. He simply could not get over the views that surrounded the place, even though it was the only view.

"No, but she made 'em," Michonne called back, referring to the brownies. "She's over here a lot, but I figured it was better for her to have her in her own villa. Six months is a long time."

"Makes sense," he nodded to himself. He set the plate in the microwave for twenty seconds, then found a bottle opener after searching another series of drawers, just as he heard Michonne snicker to herself from wherever she'd disappeared to. "You find it?"

"Found two," she announced proudly, strolling back into the room with a brand new plug still in the box it came in. She dropped it at the edge of the counter so that he wouldn't forget it when he left, then took a seat across from her friend, gazing at him with an amused gleam in her eye. "When's the last time you did this?"

"What, got high?" He finished opening his beer and took a sip as he tried to recall his most recent experience with the drug. "I think it was right before you left, actually. At your party."

"What," Michonne chirped, incredulous that he would get high at her own goodbye party without even inviting her to join. "By yourself?"

"With Andrea and Shane," he answered meekly, hearing the disappointment in her voice. "You were busy with your coworkers, so we just… snuck out to the garage."

"What the hell, Rick?"

"If it helps, it was only because we were sad about you leaving."

"It definitely does not help," she maintained, retrieving the plate of thawed brownies from the microwave. She took one for herself and begrudgingly slid the plate across the counter so that he could have one. "You guys are assholes."

He smiled as he grabbed some 'dessert' for himself, relieved that she didn't appear to be legitimately upset about it. "So did Carol make these for a special occasion, or was it just for the hell of it?"

"Sophia came to visit for Thanksgiving," Michonne answered with her mouth full. "I'm pretty sure she smuggled the drugs in from California, but... none of my business. All I know is we had them after dinner one night, and it was _glorious_."

Rick laughed at the thought, sorry he'd missed what was surely a sight to see. "Well besides drug trafficking, how is Sophia?"

"Tall, gorgeous, smart," she said, amused by how much Carol's daughter had grown since going off to college two years prior. "And I'm certain she's an absolute troublemaker out there, but it was a delight to have her."

"I keep thinkin' about Carl goin' off to college and it scares the shit outta me," he sighed, his gaze getting lost in the marble pattern of the countertop. "I'm still trying to figure out how I can get him to just stay in the city."

"As in the city of Atlanta?" she frowned. "Or are you counting UGA?"

"Athens is over an hour from us," he declared as if she didn't know. "Tech is basically down the street."

Michonne looked back at her friend as if he'd just kicked a puppy and asked her to join in. "You'd rather have your son go to a _rival_ school than attend our alma mater because it's an hour away?"

"Well it's not like we go there anymore," he defended with a chuckle, washing down his brownie with another sip of beer. "I want my kid close."

"An _hour_ , Rick? Sophia is clear across the country. Duane lives on another continent," she argued, reminding him how far college could take Carl if he really wanted to go. "That fifty-whatever miles is nothing."

"All right, well we'll see how you feel about that in ten years," he shot back. "I feel bad for Andre already, because I can see it coming."

"You can already see _what_ coming," she demanded, throwing a small piece of her dessert at him. "I am not one of those mothers."

"Sure," he smirked, popping the rogue piece of brownie into his mouth. "I guess that's why it took you three years to let Lori and I babysit."

"So you think I'm overprotective?"

"I think… you are exactly the right amount of protective. Which means you're gonna have a fit when he goes to college. That's all I'm sayin'."

"Well I probably will," she admitted, smiling because she hated how well he knew her. "But that doesn't mean I wouldn't allow him to go where he wants to go."

"Sure, Michonne."

"Stop saying that!" she hissed, throwing the cap to his beer bottle at him this time. "I just want him to be happy and safe. That's it."

"So…" Rick paused before going on, knowing he was entering dicey territory bringing up something that wasn't necessarily his business. But it was something that he'd been wondering about for a while now, and as Michonne's friend, he was probably doing a disservice to them both by never discussing it with her. He just needed to tread lightly. "Is Andre happy not seeing Mike? Or's it about his safety?"

Michonne looked back at him with raised eyebrows, feeling gobsmacked by the question. Blindsided. Especially coming from Rick, considering he was closer to her than to Mike at that point. Of course she shouldn't have been surprised that her ex was going around telling people their business, but she was surprised Rick would give any credence to it. "What did Mike say?" she asked, clinging to her composure despite wanting to actually scream.

"Just… that you were still unwilling to revise the custody agreement," he revealed carefully. "It was a few months ago, and he wanted me to talk to you. But I thought I should stay out of it."

"But you've clearly changed your mind."

"I wasn't - I mean, I was curious," he stuttered. "Not in the interest of talkin' you out of it, because I already know you must have your reasons. I just wanted to know what they were, I guess."

"Well," she sighed, finishing what was left of her wine in one big gulp before explaining herself. "The good doctor seemed to forget that he even had a son while he was off trying to salvage what was left of his career. Gone for months at a time, back for a week, and then gone again. You remember how it was."

Rick nodded, moving around the counter so that he could take a seat on the open stool beside her. "I remember the time he left for like five months, I think it was Bangui he went to. I know that was especially hard on you guys."

"That was especially hard on _me_ ," she corrected him, rolling her eyes. "He loved it." She rubbed her face as her body grew warm from the wine and she realized how selfish she sounded. "And maybe under normal circumstances, I would feel less shitty about him being gone. Because despite his motivations, he was doing good. They needed him, and I was glad - I still am glad that he found a positive way to contribute to society. But he only went to Doctors Without Borders because they were the only organization that would take him. Because he was more concerned with getting back his prestige than the son he had at home, and I don't know why I have to allow that. Why _my_ son is the one who suffers for it."

He wasn't sure what to say in response. He was much closer to Michonne than Mike these days, mainly of Mike's own doing, so he certainly wasn't going to sit there and try to defend him. But at the same time, he liked to think that people deserved forgiveness when they were sorry. Certainly when it came to the love of her life and father of her child. "You don't think maybe he deserves a second chance?"

"This would be his third chance," she reminded him, sending a knowing look his way. "And I'm not gonna willingly give him the chance to break Andre's heart again once he gets bored with being a father again. When it's time to go save someone else."

"Yeah," Rick exhaled softly, nervously scratching the top of his head. "I dunno the answer to that. Which is why I guess it took me so long to ask the question."

"Well he served me with papers," she revealed with a derisive chuckle, stuffing a giant chunk of brownie into her mouth. "So I suppose we'll let the courts figure it out."

"Custody papers?"

"Divorce papers," she corrected him curtly. " _He's_ divorcing _me_. Petitioning for full custody. As if _he_ has the moral high ground."

"Jesus."

She glanced back to Rick and she could tell she was stressing him out, which was about the last thing she wanted to do during this trip. It was supposed to be about good things, and Mike was no longer on that list. She had resolved to deal with him in the new year, once everyone was gone. "We've been separated for a year and a half; this just makes it official. And that's fine," she promised, softening her tone. "I'm fine. Andre is fine."

Rick relented in his concern for her, understanding that she was simply doing what was best for her child, as any parent would. He would never be in a relationship with someone who didn't give their all to being a parent, because that was what kids deserved. And Andre had that in spades with Michonne. He smiled just imagining her seven-year-old tucked away upstairs in his Steven Universe-themed bed, as he so enthusiastically described during dinner. "He's such a cute kid."

"The cutest," she shook her head, grinning back. "Sometimes it's hard to believe Mike had anything to do with it."

"Well he is pretty light compared to you two," he joked. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was his father before Mike."

Michonne snorted, giving his arm a playful swat. "Stop."

"The idea of sex with me makes you snort?" he continued to tease her. "Really?"

"That's not why I snorted," she was quick to deny. "Shut up. I just don't wanna start any rumors."

Rick leaned into her and dramatically lowered his voice as his eyes scanned the room. "Is there someone listening to us?"

"You never know..."

"Well this is your place, so I hope you do know," he chuckled, returning to his upright position. He fixated on his half-full beer bottle, absentmindedly sliding it back and forth across the counter between his hands as another question came to mind. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You sound like Shane," she commented with a smirk, nodding for him to go ahead.

"Now that you know it's over with Mike, how does it feel?"

"How does it _feel_?"

"I mean, you were with him for your entire adult life. Or even before that, actually," he reconsidered. "And now, after years of this… this struggle between you two, it's done; you get to move on. So what does it feel like to be free?" He looked her in the eye, searching for the answer before she could voice it. "Or do you feel free?"

"Umm, I dunno." Trying to avoid his gaze, she picked up another brownie from the two left on the plate. "I never considered framing it that way exactly, but I guess I do feel free," she granted. "I used to wake up with this sense of dread. What's gonna be the excuse this time? How's he gonna ruin my day, my week, my month?" She shook her head again as she recalled just how taxing her life was at that time. Between Mike's bullshit and Lori's diagnosis, she was almost a different person three years ago. "I don't feel that anymore. I don't live in this constant state of worry over how he's gonna break my son's heart. Or mine, for that matter. You know, we live here in this paradise, and Andre has me, he has his friends, and the beach is his backyard. So if he's happy, I'm happy."

"He seems happy," Rick offered, even though he'd only spent a couple of hours with him in eleven months. "Of course it's easier when they're so young."

"It certainly helps that Mike wasn't around much in the first place."

"Yeah," he granted, stealing a glimpse of the side of her face. "Judith was only three when she lost her mother, so I know she doesn't feel it the way Carl does. Which is a relief."

Michonne nodded sadly, quietly wondering what that meant for her godson then. Maybe that was what he wanted to talk to her about. She felt her body tense as she looked back at Rick. "Do you think he isn't handling it well?"

"Carl? He's handling it almost too well," he chuckled. "I mean, he went through his sad phase, and he gets a little temperamental around certain holidays, but… he's been exactly how you'd hope your kid would process something like this."

"Yeah, if your biggest problem is him not cutting his hair, you're doing pretty well," she smiled.

"Right." He quietly laughed to himself as he stared at the last brownie sitting on the plate between them, questioning whether to take it. He knew from experience that one usually did the trick, but it just looked so lonely and delicious sitting there all by itself.

"Here," Michonne cut into his thoughts, offering the remaining half of her second one. The look on his face told her he was debating it, and she wanted to put him out of his misery. "I don't need two whole ones."

He immediately took a bite, thanking her with his mouth full of chocolate. "Could you tell I was thinkin' about it?"

"I'm pretty sure you were about to start drooling," she laughed before hopping down from her seat. She moved back around the counter to grab her opened wine bottle from the refrigerator and snatched up another Corona for him as well. "Let's go sit outside."

Rick wasn't sure why she suddenly decided they needed a change of venue, as he was rather enjoying sitting in her kitchen just shooting the shit, but there was no way he was going to turn down the scenery from her balcony. "All right..."

"When it hits you, you'll be glad you're out there," she added, reading his mind. "There's nothing like this view when you're high."

He smiled at the thought, gratefully accepting the second beer as she sauntered past him. And maybe it was the alcohol talking to him, or the drugs were already taking their effect, but he couldn't help but notice that her ass in that turquoise dress made for a pretty nice sight itself. She was already halfway outside, and it took everything in him to stop staring and follow after her. Holding up his beer, he mumbled to himself before taking a sip, "Here's to a nice view."

* * *

An hour later, Rick and Michonne were amply intoxicated, lying side-by-side on matching lounge chairs as they watched the ocean and laughed their way through conversation – some of it mindless, some of it meaningful. It was the perfect cap to their first night together in months, becoming reacquainted after so much time apart. That fog of awkwardness had lifted, and they were back to being two old friends just enjoying one another's company.

"I feel so good right now," Michonne declared, an obvious smile in her voice. She had her eyes closed, and the breeze blowing past them made her feel like she was floating through the atmosphere.

"I do too," Rick replied. "I could be chained right here to this chair for the rest of my life and I'd be alright with that."

"Ugh, that would be so boring," she giggled, although mostly at how softly he was speaking. "Plus, there's nowhere to store food. You'd get hungry."

"Well obviously Judith would bring me food."

"You're silly." Michonne opened her eyes when she felt his leg brush against hers as he crossed one over the other, and next thing she knew, her gaze managed to find his boxer shorts, fixating on the light blue fabric for much too long. For some reason, it didn't occur to her until that very moment that he was naked under those things. She felt her cheeks tingling and immediately averted her eyes elsewhere – his hand draped over his stomach, in particular. And it was then she also noticed for the first time that his silver wedding band was nowhere to be found. "When'd that happen?" she decided to ask, pointing it out.

Rick held up his hand as if he was unsure what she was referring to, his memory only jogged by actually seeing his bare finger. "Few months ago," he answered casually, rubbing the empty spot with his thumb. "It was a couple days after her birthday, I just figured it was time."

"Good for you," she nodded, impressed with how healthily he was handling things. He seemed confident in when and how to move on with his life, and it made her happy to see.

"When'd you take off yours?"

"I haven't worn it since I got down here," she smirked. "It's probably in a box in my mom's basement, along with all the other shit I didn't need here."

Rick hated being amused by her contempt for her husband – his friend, at one point in time – but it was kind of funny. How much she loved him then, versus how much she didn't now. Maybe it was more sad than funny, actually. "You ever miss him?" he wondered, staring at their bare feet in his line of sight. "Or miss just having somebody?"

Michonne let out a small sigh, hesitant to admit the answer to that question, because it didn't fit in with her narrative of moving on. But she figured if anyone understood what loneliness felt like, it would be Rick. "I do miss him," she quietly confessed. "Sometimes, like you said earlier, it creeps up. We _were_ together forever. And in my mind, we were gonna be the Huxtables." She smiled ruefully, recalling how the group would always joke about it when he decided to go pre-med while she was on her pre-law track. "But then he fell apart, and then we did. And most of the time, he's just not… who I remember, and I think maybe I don't necessarily miss _him_. I just miss that feeling I had with him. Coming home to someone you're in love with. You know?"

"I know," he granted in a hoarse whisper, his gaze still distracted by Michonne's toes. "Hey, you have really nice feet."

She looked over to him, his random declaration making her giggle for the hundredth time that night. "You say this literally all the time."

"No I don't."

"You definitely do," she insisted. "You say it damn near every time you see my feet."

"You're exaggerating, but all right," he conceded, lazily raising just one hand from his chest in a gesture of surrender. "'Least you know I mean it."

"Either that, or that you have a foot fetish," she joked. "Important information either way."

"It's not a fetish."

"I mean, you say that, but then every time your eyes land on my toes, you look like you wanna eat them, and I dunno what that's about."

"You're an asshole," he grinned over at her. "That's the last time I ever give you a compliment."

She used one of her pretty feet to kick him, both of them cackling when her foot connected with his leg in a loud smack. "It better not be."

Once they sobered from their laughter, Rick made sure to assure her, "It won't be." His gaze lingered on her as he tried to recall what they were discussing before he took them off on a tangent. "Hey, you wanna hear somethin' funny?"

"Always," she shot back instantly.

"Lori and I almost got a divorce." He said it so casually, it sounded like he was giving her a weather forecast.

And in response, Michonne turned her head in his direction, her eyes narrowed on his blank expression before she burst into laughter. "Shut the fuck up, Rick."

"I'm serious," he chuckled at her disbelief. "Before we had Judith, we came really close. I'd even talked to Andrea about what I'd need to do, recommending a lawyer..."

Incredulous for the second time that night, Michonne sat up in her seat and got into position on her knees so that she could face her friend and gauge how honest he was being. "What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded. "When was this?"

"Seven, eight years ago," he shrugged. "It was a good year or so we were goin' through it."

She could remember Rick and Lori having issues, as most married couples do – particularly at that time, when Lori was struggling with getting back into the workforce after 8 years of being a stay-at-home mom, and Rick wasn't exactly helping, focused on getting his own business off the ground. She even recalled a couple of nights where they asked if Carl could stay at her place, just to get away from some of the tension in their house. But it never seemed like anything dire. "I didn't know it was that bad, Rick. She never told me."

"You were pregnant, then you had a newborn," he reminded her, simply guessing as to why Lori wouldn't have told her best friend. "I'm sure she didn't wanna put that on you."

She sat there with her mouth hanging open, shocked by the revelation. Trying not to be bothered by it, knowing how much she wanted to keep her own marital woes under wraps. "Is that why you guys started going to church?" she grimaced, thinking back on that random religious phase her friends had gone through. It made so much more sense now.

"We were in counseling," he nodded, laughing again at her disdain. "Our pastor was this really sweet man, Pastor Greene. And he basically told us, for Carl's sake, we had to either get our shit together or go our separate ways. And he helped us get our shit together."

"Jesus," Michonne exhaled, rubbing at her forehead. This was a lot of information for her temporarily addled brain. "You think you know somebody..."

"Tell me about it," he smirked.

"Wait," she paused, glaring at her friend. "Is this your way of telling me I should try marriage counseling with Mike?"

"No," he was quick to promise her, shaking his head against his headrest. "No. I think it's more my roundabout way of sayin' I'm happy you're gettin' a divorce."

"Rick, what the fuck," she yelped, her face still scrunched with disbelief and confusion. "I'm _really_ starting to question this friendship at the moment."

"Okay, all I'm sayin' is, I know firsthand how bad it has to get for divorce to be the only option you have left. And I'm happy that you get to be happy now."

"Happy and single?" she remarked sarcastically. She shook her head at the thought of having to start her love life from scratch, as if taking on a whole new career wasn't hard enough on its own. "I'm about to be forty, Rick."

He couldn't help but laugh at the way she announced it as if it were new information to him. "Welcome to the club, 'Chonne. It's fun here."

"Oh please," she scoffed. "It's different for men and you know it. You get more attractive as you get older. You probably have women already knocking at your door."

"Okay, so we're really gonna sit here and act like you can't have any man you want?" he challenged her, staring her in the eye. The light from inside the house illuminated her brown skin, making her look like the sun at 2:00am, and he found himself biting his bottom lip. "You forget how long I've known you."

"I haven't forgotten," she smirked. Her eyes involuntarily began to scan the length of his body, wondering what was making him bite his lip that way. "But dating at this age, as a single mother, on an island of fifteen thousand people just… isn't easy."

Rick felt his face flush when he noticed her gaze, and he uncrossed and recrossed his legs, hoping she wouldn't notice his new shade. "Well don't you have guests coming through here all the time? You could do one of those 'Stella gettin' her groove back' kinda flings, see where it goes."

"First of all, I'd rather not be a walking cliche. And second of all…" She purposely avoided his gaze once again, looking down at her knees as she mumbled, "I already tried that."

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he prodded, amused by her sudden demureness.

"I said, _I've tried that_ ," she repeated more forcefully this time. "And don't you dare judge me."

"I would never." Though his smile transformed into a full blown laugh, and he couldn't stop, even when she hit him. "Honestly, I'm just glad one of us is gettin' laid."

She giggled, thinking back to that random summer weekend she spent getting dicked down by some suave Englishman whose name she couldn't even remember now. "It was nice," she admitted. "He was nice. But it was more about scratching an itch than making some false commitment to getting to know someone via FaceTime."

"'Scratching an itch'," he repeated her choice of words, looking up to the sky contemplatively. "I wonder what that's like."

Michonne's fit of giggles didn't stop, causing her to cover face when she snorted for the third time that night. "I'm sorry."

"What are you laughin' at?" he was grinning, enjoying seeing her full smile on display. She looked like the happiest person in the world when she laughed. "Is something funny about my loneliness, Michonne?"

"I'm so sorry. No, I just - I'm really high," she said between laughs. "And us talking about sex is making me itchy again."

Rick started to laugh too, unsure whether their conversation was even making sense anymore. Not that it needed to - he was just glad they were having it. He felt light as a feather for the first time in a long time, and not just because of the marijuana.

"Anyway," Michonne sighed, attempting to think her way back on track after she derailed them with her silliness. "I guess I'm saying that I'm not really looking. But it'd be nice to find someone."

Rick nodded slowly as he looked over to his friend again, feeling like he was hearing his own words come out of her mouth. He rested a comforting hand on her thigh, thinking about how their late night rendezvous began - how he just came by looking for a place to charge his phone and ended up having the best night he could remember in over two years. He wasn't sure what that translated to, if anything, but he was eager to find out what the next fourteen days had to offer. "Me, too," he eventually whispered, his thumb rubbing at the fabric covering her knee. And maybe they'd both find what they weren't looking for.


	4. The Kids Are Alright

 

"Wait a minute!" Judith exasperatedly covered her face with her hand, as it seemed the conversation she'd been having with her friend for the past five minutes was going awry. "I thought we were talking about soccer! You mean to tell me you play football?"

Andre let out a small sigh and stopped shoveling sand into his bucket long enough to explain to her, "Football and soccer are the same thing, Judith."

"No," she shook her head adamantly. She knew because she played soccer herself, and often spent her Sundays watching her father and godfather yell at the television while they watched Falcons games. "Football is with the long brown ball. Soccer is with the black and white one."

"I know, but that's only in America," he calmly clarified. "All over the rest of the world," he gestured with wide arms, "soccer is football."

"What?" she practically shrieked. "Why?"

Andre shrugged as he resumed his task of sandcastle-building. "That's just the way it is."

"That's silly," she declared in her most matter-of-fact tone. "What do they call the regular football in the other places then?"

"American football," he guessed, as that was what the people of Anguilla would refer to it as. "I dunno."

"Well I don't wanna say 'soccer' anymore," Judith decided in that moment. "I'm gonna use football from now on."

"But you live in America, so people are gonna think you're talking about the American football."

She gazed at Andre blankly for a moment as she tried to conceive a solution to that dilemma. "I can call it 'soccer-football,'" she offered. "I'll get my whole team to call it that."

"Maybe… you can call it soccer when you're in America, and when you come here, you can call it football."

Judith sighed at having to compromise, but she had to admit that did sound like the best option. At least until her home country could get on board. "Okay."

Michonne grinned in amusement as she listened to the kids' converse, admiring their intelligence, observing their distinct personalities. She'd essentially been eavesdropping for the past hour as they debated everything under the sun, from the merits of home school versus private school, to the adventures of Doc McStuffins and Phineas and Ferb, to their excitement over the return of the Planet Earth series. They got along like two old friends, similar to the way she and Rick did, and it was so entertaining, she hadn't even cracked open her book. She'd barely gotten two hours of sleep thanks to her own adventures with Rick, so when Andre woke her up at 6:30, asking to go to the beach, she wasn't exactly thrilled. But there was no denying that this was a perfect way to start her day.

"Hey, kiddos," she called out to them, hating to interrupt their spirited discussion. But it was nearly 8:00am, and she needed to get breakfast going for her guests. "It's about time to pack up and head on back."

Andre let out a quiet groan of disappointment, while Judith dramatically laid herself out in the sand in a form of protest. "Do we have to?"

"Yes, we do," Michonne chuckled, ignoring her antics. "Aren't you guys hungry?"

"Nope!" Andre answered for them both, his attempt to get a little more time on the beach.

Conversely, Judith excitedly raised her hand as she lifted herself from the ground. "I am!"

" _Judith_." He frowned at her sabotage, but knew he'd already lost the battle, so he slowly began to collect their toys.

"We can come back out this afternoon," Michonne promised with a sympathetic smile. "Or maybe if you're nice to Carl, he'll take you out after breakfast."

"He's not gonna do that, Auntie," Judith answered knowingly.

She couldn't help but chuckle at her perceptive tone, questioning how she could be so sure. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm nice to him all the time, and he never takes me to the beach."

Andre and Michonne both laughed at her, while Michonne approached the duo to wipe the sand from their hair and clothes. "Well we'll see what happens," she submitted as a cap to the conversation. Within another couple of minutes, the three of them had gathered their things and were headed back to the B & B; the kids walking just a few feet ahead of Michonne, picking up seashells along the way as they continued their random musings.

"Andre?" Judith stopped to pick up a cockle shell for their collection before continuing with her question. "What is it like to have a mommy?"

Michonne felt her stomach drop when she heard the question, even if she knew Judith probably didn't mean it in the weighty, heartbreaking way that she took it. She likely didn't remember Lori very well, so it wasn't about missing her. It was a curiosity more than anything. She understood that. But having that logic didn't stop her heart from cracking in half as she thought about this five-year-old navigating the world without a mother. It reminded her of Rick asking what it felt like to be free. The reality was that even after two years, Lori's death left an aching hole in this family that would likely never be filled.

"I dunno," Andre eventually shrugged in reply. "I always had one, so... it's just regular to me. I always have somebody to take care of me and talk to."

"Oh..."

Judith seemed disappointed by that answer, and Michonne desperately wanted to step in, but instead, Andre submitted his own question to the conversation, and it came out of his mouth, she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"What is it like to have a daddy?"

"It's good," she nodded enthusiastically. "My daddy does everything for me."

"He makes you breakfast?" he wondered.

"He makes me breakfast and lunch _and_ dinner." Her voice went lower as she appended, "But it's not always good."

"Well that's the same things my mom does for me, so maybe you don't even need a mommy."

"Yeah…" she granted, her typically chipper voice turning somber. "But most of the kids at school have one. My friend Harley has _two_ ," she added, holding up her index and middle fingers to emphasize her point.

"Well some people have two daddies and don't have a mom," Andre tried to rationalize for both himself and his friend. "All families are all different, and that's okay."

"I know," she exhaled sharply. Because knowing that didn't stop her from wanting to have one like everyone else.

"I can share my mommy with you if you want," he suggested as if he were offering to share a sandwich with her. "She makes you do math even if you hate it, but she's a really good one."

Judith lit up at the idea of having her godmother as an actual mother, showing off her toothy little grin as she picked up another seashell and threw it into their pail. "And you can share my daddy with me!"

Andre scrunched his face in response, his twinkling dark brown eyes squinting at her. "But what if I like having him as my uncle?"

"He's not your real uncle," she reminded him. "Trust me, he's a really good daddy. You'll love it."

Michonne couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry as she listened to this conversation, these two precocious kids revealing feelings they probably didn't even realize they had. Hearing Andre ask about a father, something she'd been insecure about since the day Mike stopped being one, undeniably rattled her. But the kindness these children showed to one another, the wisdom in their words, it gave her hope; made her smile. But those emotions were warring with each other, and the sad ones were winning out. Which was not the way she wanted to start her day.

* * *

Meanwhile, back at the resort, Rick and Shane were up and at it, hanging in the lounge area as they enjoyed a pot of coffee Carol brewed for them before leaving for the airport. They were mostly sitting in comfortable silence – a typical morning for the two, only now, they had the added bonus of an incredible view just ahead of them. But Shane couldn't help but notice the smile on Rick's face – a small one, but a smile nonetheless – as they sat there not talking, and he wondered what was on his friend's mind. He liked to think that being on vacation and getting to relax just had him this happy.

"I gotta tell you, man," Shane started to say as he set down his mug of the Panamanian blend, "I'm real glad you finally decided to do this whole thing."

Rick looked over to his best friend as if half of his sentence was in a different language. " _I_ decided?" he repeated him, chuckling. "This was what Lori wanted."

"Yeah, but you've been puttin' it off forever, always talkin' about, 'Uhh, now's not a good time'," he grinned, doing his best impression of Rick's mellow drawl. "Actin' like you haven't needed a vacation for 'bout five years now."

"Okay," he playfully rolled his eyes. "I guess you know better than I do."

"Well I do. I know how much you're at the job. And when you're not there, you're worried about gettin' Carl or Judith some place or another. You work too hard, man."

"Yeah well, you'll know that feeling all too well in about three months," he prophesized.

Shane let out a delighted sigh at the simple thought of finally meeting his twins after actual years of trying. "Well I'm ready for that part."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Rick smirked. "If I work too hard, it's because you don't work at all," he joked, gulping down a swig of his coffee. "Somebody's gotta pick up your slack."

"Fuck you, man, I do my part."

"If your part is to leave all the client meetings and planning and execution to me, then yeah, you do."

Their hearty laughter continued as Carl came ambling into the room to join them, toting his phone and headphones, along with a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. "Hey, man," Shane greeted him, watching him easily settle onto the floor in front of them.

"Mornin'," Rick submitted, seeing his son for the first time that morning as well.

"Hey, Dad," he answered with his mouth full. "Shane."

"You sleep okay?"

He nodded as he swallowed down his cereal with a knowing smile back at his dad. "Did you sleep at all?" he wondered, his eyebrow raised suspiciously. He was knocked out by the time his dad did come back to their suite, but he knew it was after 4:00, and that was all the information he needed to start prying.

"I got a couple hours," he answered, feeling his face flush as he thought about what he'd spent his evening doing. There wasn't even a reason to blush – nothing particularly scandalous happened other than a lot of silly conversation – but he hadn't exactly planned on sharing the details of his late-night dessert and discussion with Michonne.

"What, you couldn't sleep?" Shane asked, oblivious at first, figuring some residual feelings about being there without Lori might've kept him awake. It wasn't until he glanced over to his friend and his bright pink shade as he took another sip of coffee gave away something much more interesting. "I'm sorry, are you blushin' right now?"

"I'm not – I mean it's nothin'," he promised, chuckling at himself and his lack of poker face. "My mind just wandered for a minute."

"Well wherever it went made you turn red as hell," he teased him, knocking his shoulder for good measure.

"Must be wherever you went last night," Carl submitted, proudly instigating so that he could get more information for himself. "He left around 12:30, and when I went to the bathroom at like 4:00, he was still gone," he informed Shane.

Shane's eyebrows nearly lifted from his face and his mouth dropped open as he stared back at Rick. "What?" he exclaimed in excitement. He couldn't keep the amused grin off his face as he prodded his friend to spill the beans. "Where were you, man?"

"I wasn't anywhere," he shrugged. "I went by Michonne's for a minute and we ended up hangin' out."

"You were with _Michonne_?" Carl asked, his tone both disbelieving and hopeful.

"Where did you think I was?"

"I don't know, Dad. You always tell me that nothing good happens after midnight."

"And by that, he means everything good happens after midnight," Shane laughed, still peering at his best friend. And while he was fairly certain that nothing actually happened between Michonne and Rick, the look on his friend's face said that he was thinking about it. Wheels were turning; he might've even dreamt about it. Either way, it made Shane happy as hell to see Rick was finally thinking about jumping back in the saddle. "Four in the mornin', huh?"

"I got to bed at about five," he granted, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah."

"What were you doing all that time?" Carl wondered.

"You stay outta grown folks' business," Shane warned him in jest.

"We didn't do anything but eat brownies and talk out on her balcony," Rick was happy to clarify. "One of us fell asleep for a while… It was nice."

Carl smiled at the idea of his dad and Michonne hanging out, feeling like it was a step in the right direction for his old man. Better than the ones he'd previously been taking, anyway. He gulped down another spoonful of his cereal as he asked, "Was it like being back in college?"

"Kinda," he decided with a nod. "Yeah."

Shane sent a knowing glance his way, sorely tempted to comment on it further, but Rick was saved by the bell when Michonne came trudging through the door with the two little ones by her side, all three of them sprinkled in sand. "Well speak of the devil," he declared, grinning at the trio. "We were just talkin' about you, girl."

Michonne smiled politely, but she wasn't in the headspace to engage with him the way she usually would have, with some charming, sarcastic quip. "What were you guys talking about?" She caught Rick's eye, but quickly traded it for Shane's, hoping he'd say something silly to keep her from drowning in her feelings.

"You and my dad hanging out all night," Carl answered for them.

"Carl wanted to know why I was out so late," he explained, welcoming Judith into his embrace as she ran toward him. "You guys have fun?"

"Uh huh," she nodded happily. "But we couldn't finish our castle because we have to eat."

"You get any good seashells?" he asked Andre, noticing the bucket he was toting.

"They're okay," he shrugged as he offered the pail to his uncle. "We found a _huge_ one," he described, gesturing a conch shell nearly four times the size of his little fist, "but it was broken, so we had to leave it."

"Auntie said it might cut us," Judith added.

Rick couldn't help but notice that 'Auntie' didn't quite seem to be in the same room as the rest of them. Her demeanor was so different from when she'd come to pick up Judith just over an hour ago; he wondered if perhaps she'd gotten a call or text from Mike while they were out on the beach. Because he couldn't fathom what else would've changed her mood so drastically. Of course, he knew not to ask in front of the kids, as it would lead way to a million different questions, but he hoped she was all right. "You guys ready for some breakfast?" he directed to the younger ones, habitually running his hand over Judith's sandy curls.

"Can you make us pancakes?" she requested, her honey-brown gaze begging him to acquiesce. " _Please_."

He looked up to Michonne for confirmation that she had the necessary supplies for such a mission. "Can I?"

"You shouldn't be cooking on your vacation," she smiled back at him weakly. "I got it."

"I got it," he insisted then, her lack of enthusiasm telling him that she needed a break. "You took the kids out first thing this morning. Just go back to bed for a little while." He noticed her look of uncertainty, and decided then to try Judith's method of puppy dog eyes. "Come on."

Michonne couldn't even remember the last time she had a chance to sleep while the sun was out, being consumed every morning with making breakfast for 15 - 30 people. The idea of crawling back into bed sounded pretty damn tempting, if she were being honest with herself. She wasn't too keen on being alone with her thoughts, but figured maybe the lack of sleep was what had her emotions all out of whack in the first place. That was what she hoped, at least.

"Daddy will make you pancakes too," Judith offered in an attempt to persuade her.

Michonne quirked an amused eyebrow at him, thinking back to the night before, how she didn't believe him when he touted his kitchen skills. "Thank you," she finally relented, accepting his offer. "I think I do need to lie down."

"Take as long as you need," Rick nodded kindly. And as Andre and Judith found a corner near Carl to lay out their seashell collection, Rick watched as Michonne retreated, wishing he knew what had taken away her smile.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Michonne hadn't quite gotten around to actually sleeping. But she did manage a relaxing bath, followed by a quiet breakfast on her balcony, comprised of yogurt and sugar apple and her Zadie Smith novel. It helped that she could hear the kids' laughter in the air as she ate, which was more soothing than any nap could ever be.

By late morning, she was ready to rejoin her friends, figuring Daryl had arrived by then, and they could all conjure up some plans for the rest of the day. But as she combed through the grounds, searching for her guests, the only person she managed to find was Carl, sitting at the edge of the pool, his face buried in his phone, so she decided to stop there. "What's her name?" she announced, taking note of the smile on the teenager's face as his fingers zoomed across his touchscreen.

Startled by the voice, he nearly dropped his phone in the water as he looked up at his godmother with a bashful grin. "It's not like that," he shook his head, setting his phone to his side.

"What's his name?" she offered instead, instantly wishing she hadn't been gender-specific in the first place.

"No, I mean, she's just a friend," he chuckled. "She has a boyfriend."

"Ah." Michonne grinned at the revelation as she claimed the open space beside him, recalling being on the other side of that equation when she was close to his age. "But you like her," she guessed, pulling off her flip flops as she glanced over at him. "Does she like you?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. "I _think_ so. But if she has a boyfriend, does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," she scoffed. "She isn't married. And even then, there's always a way out," she appended, her voice dropping an octave. "But if she likes you more than this other guy, she can always choose you. _If_ that's what you guys want."

"I never thought of it that way, I guess. I just… I don't wanna steal some other guy's girlfriend."

Michonne sighed, mostly at his choice of words, but she also couldn't help but hear his father in those words, which amused her. "She can't be stolen, Carl. She's not property."

"You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," she smirked, dipping her feet into the delightfully warm water. Her eyes fixated on the ripples that followed as she quietly reminisced on her college days. "Where'd everybody go?" she eventually asked when the silence began to sound like noise to her.

"Judith and Andre tricked my dad into taking them back to the beach to find more seashells," Carl chuckled, "and Andrea went with them. And Shane and Morgan went to the docks to look at boats or something." He paused to think of who else he was missing. "Oh, and Jenny is up on the roof. She said she wanted to read and enjoy the view."

"And Daryl and Carol?" she wondered, squinting at him as the sun beamed down on them both.

He shrugged again as his phone vibrated against the cement. "They haven't come back yet, I don't think."

"Of course," she smiled to herself, unsurprised by the news. She could only imagine what Shane would have to say – he always bristled whenever Daryl's crush on his older sister came up. But now that Carol was divorced and could actually reciprocate those feelings, the next step seemed inevitable. And she just wanted to be a fly on the wall when Shane did find out.

"'Of course' what?" Carl questioned her, feeling like he'd missed something.

"Nothing," she shook her head, amused by his constant curiosity. She swore he came out of the womb asking questions. "Why didn't you go with your dad?" she decided to question him instead.

"I just wanted to hang out here. Wait for you."

She grinned warmly at his answer and affectionately cupped the back of his head the way she often did with Andre, her thumb tangling in his hair. As much as she loved their FaceTime conversations, there was nothing quite like being able to sit side-by-side and _talk_. She hadn't forgotten him saying that he wanted to do exactly that, and she figured now was as good a time as any to catch up. "So what's her name?" she asked again, studying and enjoying the little grin on his face each time his phone buzzed.

"It's Enid." It was his turn to shake his head at Michonne's nosiness. "Enid Burke."

She nodded, deciding she liked it. It wasn't one of those trendy names that ended in A, like all the kids in Andre's old classes. "Have you told your dad about her?"

"No," he immediately frowned at just the thought. "I mean, he's met her before. She umm – she came to a couple of my meets. But he doesn't know…"

"She came to your cross country meets?"

"Yeah."

"Is this boyfriend of hers on the team, too?"

He shook his head as his blue gaze fixated on the water ahead of them. "He plays football."

Michonne could only laugh, his obliviousness entertaining her to no end. "Let me tell you something. _I_ wouldn't even come to watch you run cross country, and I love you. You don't have to wonder if she likes you."

Carl tried to suppress his smile, but the thought of their feelings being mutual was a little too much to keep bottled up. "I think she was just killing time before the games," he suggested self-deprecatingly. "I dunno. We're in Model UN and the robotics team together, so we just see each other more than she sees him."

"The robotics team, huh? How'd you get your dad to change his mind?"

"He didn't, really," he chuckled. "He told me to do what I thought was best, but he still talks about the stupid STEM club like every day."

"Well you knew that was gonna happen when you chose it," she retorted with a smirk.

"Yeah… I guess I did." He grinned at how well she knew both him and his dad, which was precisely why he'd decided to save his next topic of discussion for her before trying to broach the subject with him. He knew she would be able to look at things from both their perspectives and give him some sound advice. "Hey, Michonne?"

"Mmhm?" she answered, semi-distracted as she rolled up the hem of her long dress so that it wouldn't get any wetter than it had.

"Do you think it's time for my dad to start dating again?" he asked cautiously, his eyes flitting up to the sky as he tried to think of a better way to word his inquiry. "Like, is two years too soon?"

Michonne's perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed as she tried to figure out what prompted this question, and where he was headed with it. "Why are you asking this?" she prodded in her softest tone.

"I'm just wondering. Is that a normal time frame?"

"I don't know if there is a normal," she answered earnestly. "A lot of factors go into things like this. Some widowers give it a year, or two, or five. And some never try to find love again. It depends on the person, I'm sure."

"Okay, well you know my dad pretty well, and you know how he felt about my mom, so…"

"I mean... I don't know!" she laughed nervously, thinking back to her conversation with Rick from the night before. "I don't think it's too soon, but I also think it's fine if he wants to wait a bit longer. There's nothing wrong with being single."

"But he's never been single, so maybe he doesn't know that," Carl mumbled.

"Dude." She gently smacked his shoulder, his cryptic questions and answers infinitely piquing her curiosity. " _What_ is this about?"

He sighed heavily as he pulled both of his feet from the water to sit crosslegged, and he shifted his entire body so that he was facing Michonne. "Would you ever date someone that Andre didn't like?"

"Well he's seven, so his taste isn't quite so discerning," she smiled. "He either likes or _really_ likes everyone that I allow into his life."

"Right…"

"You're gonna have to be a little less cagey if you want me to stay in this conversation, Carl."

"Okay," he exhaled again, exasperated with the subject before he could even get around to it. "So there's this lady," he started, keeping his voice low as if someone might overhear them. "She lives next door to us, and her and my dad go running sometimes…"

"Jessie?" Michonne interrupted, that bit of information sounding familiar to her. Rick had mentioned a little about her when he said he was inviting her to the island, but as far as Michonne knew, she was bringing her girlfriend along with her, so she couldn't imagine where Carl was headed with this line of questioning.

"You know her?" he asked, surprised.

"No, not at all. Your dad told me she was your neighbor when he said he was inviting her," she revealed, shaking her head. "What about her?"

"Maybe I'm overthinking it," he granted, "but I feel like my dad is ready to start dating again. Like, he took off his ring, and I assume he invited Jessie down here for a reason." He was absently picking at a scar on his knee as he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without sounding like an asshole. "But I don't know how to tell him… I don't even know if I _should_ tell him… that I don't like her."

"And what is it you don't like about her?" she challenged him, although still trying to navigate through her own confusion. "Is she unkind?"

"No," he shook his head solemnly. "It's nothing obvious. She's always nice. Her kids suck, but that's a whole different story," he submitted as an aside. "But no, she's okay as a person. She takes care of Judith a lot, and she seems good at that. But you know how, like, you can tell someone's being fake?"

"Yeah…"

"I don't know what it is about her, but I always get the vibe that she's putting on this act. Like, I can't see myself ever talking to her like I am with you. And I dunno, I'd kinda like to be friends with the person my dad dates."

Michonne could only chuckle, feeling her face growing warm the more she sat there thinking about the situation at hand. She'd spent weeks thinking that this Jessie person was bringing her partner on vacation with her, but Carl was right - why else would Rick invite her? Which begged the question of why he hadn't even mentioned her name in the span of their four-hour conversation the night before. Did she completely imagine them talking that long? Had they not spoken candidly about sex and love and loneliness? And he didn't even hint that he had someone in mind? She had to be missing _something_. "Well," she finally spoke, unsure of what she should even say in this circumstance, "I think you've got good intuition, and you're probably not wrong about her," she allowed. "But at the same time, dating is hard. It's awkward. And maybe what you're perceiving as an act is just her coping mechanism. So if this is something you think your dad really wants, I think you should probably give her a chance."

It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but he knew she was right. She generally was. "I know this isn't about me," he made sure to say. "I said I wanna be friends with whoever my dad ends up with, but I know that can't be the first thing on his mind…"

"Well if I know your dad – and I like to _think_ that I do – it is about you. And Judith. His happiness hinges on you guys' happiness. So I guarantee you, that absolutely is one of the first things on his mind."

Carl replied with a small smile, figuring that probably was true, too. "I just want him to be happy," he whispered, staring blankly at the ground. "Just… not with her."

Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, hating herself for laughing at him. "You're terrible," she giggled. "Is she the only one, or is she the one you think he likes the most?" She was prying, and not even being subtle about it, she knew, but her curiosity was just about killing her by then.

Carl laughed just as heartily in reply, amused that she would think his dad could have more than one potential love interest. It was still surprising to him that he even had that many. "She's the only one that I know of," he smirked. "We're talking about my dad here."

"I know who we're talking about," she retorted, grinning. "I know he can come off as clueless and generally dorky, but don't let him fool you."

"No way," he beamed in disbelief. "He's only been with one woman his whole life."

She let out an involuntary scoff at that bit of information. "Is that what he told you?"

"That's what my mom told me."

Michonne had to purse her lips just keep them shut, because she was on the verge of spilling all his parents' business. "Hmm."

"Is that not true?" His eyes were wide with intrigue as he stared back at his godmother. "There was someone before my mom?"

"I'll just say this," she spoke quietly, knowing she was saying things she probably shouldn't be saying. "Your parents broke up and got back together… a few times. Back in college."

"Why?"

"The usual silly, young people reasons," she shook her head dismissively. "One time, your mom even started hanging out with Shane, just to make your dad jealous."

"That sounds like my mom," he grinned.

"Meanwhile, whenever there was even a chance that they'd broken up, the girls would come up to me like, ' _Hey, is Rick single_?'" She rolled her eyes as she did her best impression of her typical UGA classmate. "Asking me to bring them up with him, wanting to hang out with us. It was ridiculous."

"We're talking about _my_ dad here," he asked to confirm, still finding it unbelievable. He always knew Shane as the ladies' man in their group. Then again, all the moms at his school always flocked to his dad at every event, like he was interesting or something. But Carl just figured it was because pickings were slim at that age. "My dad having game goes against pretty much everything I know."

"Well I wouldn't go so far as to say he has game," she laughed. "He was cute and the quote-unquote nice one, at least compared to Shane." As she spoke on it, she quickly reconsidered her position. "Well… maybe he had a little game."

"So how'd he end back up with my mom?"

"He was in love with her," she said simply. "And she was in love with him. And I don't think anyone could've gotten past that."

Carl couldn't stop smiling, utterly fascinated by this revelation, but also simply enjoying Michonne's company. Their time together reminded him of exactly why he had missed her so much. She was the closest thing he had to not only _a_ mother, but _his_ mother. She had stories for days about his parents, which always made him feel like she was still around. They comforted him. And he wasn't even sure that she knew that. "Can I ask you something else?"

"You can ask me anything," she assured him, smiling back at him warmly. "What's up?"

"Well now that I know my parents weren't, like, soulmates from day one… how come you and my dad were never together?" Michonne opened her mouth to respond, but Carl continued. "I mean, I'm glad, because then I wouldn't exist. But like, you get along so well, and you were obviously close back then. Did it ever cross you guys' mind?"

Michonne's only answer was an awkward laugh, her face doing the warm, tingly thing it did whenever she thought about Rick in a certain way for too long. She thought she meant it when she said he could ask her anything, but this wasn't a question she was prepared to answer. "Umm…" She let the silence hang in the breeze for a moment, trying to think of a delicate truth to offer him. But then she spotted Rick and Andre running down the beach, headed straight for them, and she let out a slow but palpable sigh of relief. Saved by the bell, as it were. "Oh look, they're back."


	5. You Make Me Wanna...

_December 1997._

"Are you _sure_ she's not home?"

Michonne pressed her head against her headrest, staring at the ceiling of her friend's F-150, trying her best to not completely roll her eyes at his worry. "I know you've already scanned the parking lot probably twice by now. Do you see her car?"

Rick smiled in spite of himself, though he couldn't help but peer up to the apartment Michonne and Lori shared, waiting for some sign that his ex-girlfriend was up there, just waiting to ruin his good night. "I just… don't wanna see her right now."

"Then I guess it's a good thing she's not home." Maintaining her chipper mood, she grabbed her purse and pushed open her door. "Come on."

Reluctantly, he followed behind her, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets despite the mild weather. He distractedly watched Michonne saunter along the winding walkway to her apartment, his eyes involuntarily drawn to her deliciously rotund rear in her hip-hugging jeans as they made their way up the steps. He usually felt so comfortable with her, but the thought of being alone with her in this apartment made him atypically uneasy. "Is there a reason we couldn't just go back to my place?" he called after her.

"Because your apartment smells like feet and your new roommate is an asshole," she shot back as she dug through her purse for her keys. "But we don't have to chill if you don't want to."

"No, I want to," he nodded nervously. Their movie outing was certainly fun, but spending two hours in a dark theater didn't exactly give them much opportunity to actually talk. And she was one of few people he genuinely enjoyed doing that with. "I just don't wanna do it _here_."

"Stop being so weird," she demanded with a smile that didn't match her tone. "Worst case scenario, she sees us hanging out and she gets jealous," she joked. "She could use a taste of her own medicine."

"This is true," he grinned, slipping into the apartment behind her. "But either way, I'm done with the whole thing."

Michonne wasn't sure what to say to that, as her experience with Lori and Rick was that they were never quite done with one another, no matter what they claimed. "You want anything?"

"I got it," he nodded, surverying the familiar space. He hadn't been over there in a few weeks now, but the fact that their apartment constantly smelled of fresh laundry and vanilla was enough reason to hang out there without Lori. He shrugged off his jacket and laid it over a chair on top of Michonne's before heading into the kitchen. "What are we watchin'?"

Michonne got comfortably settled into her green leather couch, watching Rick rummage through their refrigerator for a beer, presumably. "Nothing's on TV on Fridays," she answered, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. "You wanna watch another movie?"

"We can…"

"By the way, you're taking me to see _Titanic_ next week, so prepare yourself." By then, he was strolling back into the living room to join her, and even beneath the low brim of his cap, she could see the disgust in his eyes. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I don't have a problem," he smirked, plopping down beside her. "I'm just… tryin' to figure out when I agreed to that."

"You agreed to that when I agreed to see _Scream 2_ with you," she shot back, adding another saccharin sweet smile for good measure.

If he hadn't been sitting down, he was certain her smile would've knocked him off his feet. "But I thought you wanted to see it."

"You are a damn lie," she giggled, both of them shifting on the couch to rest their feet on the coffee table at practically the same time. "Did you at least enjoy it?"

"I loved it," he nodded, cracking open his can of Heineken. "I thought it was even better than the first one."

She scoffed at the idea of any of these silly slasher movies being considered good. "Whatever that means."

"Oh, I think what I said was pretty straightforward," he quipped, topping it off with a smile of his own.

Michonne didn't miss the flirtatious tone in his twang, and her stomach started doing backflips, causing her to grin right back at him. "Well, I think I preferred _I Know What You Did Last Summer_ over both," she contended, solely to be contrary.

He gave her a long, blank stare before finally asking, "Are you fuckin' with me?"

"Kinda," she admitted, still grinning at him. "Although I very much enjoyed staring at Jennifer Love Hewitt's breasts for two hours."

Rick nearly choked on his own saliva as he processed what she'd said, his brain immediately going haywire with obscene thoughts. "Are you still fuckin' with me?"

"I'm not," she insisted, mildly offended by his disbelief. "She has nice boobs."

"Michonne..."

"Am I lying?"

"That's somethin' you notice?" he asked, unable to hide his interest in the subject. "Really?"

"Of course I do." She was suppressing the urge to giggle, and she wasn't sure why, because she was being completely honest with him. "I look at breasts all the time, and then I get jealous of all the ones that are better than mine."

"Wow," he exhaled, unable to dispel all the images imprinted on his mind now.

She watched in amusement as his face turned red as a beet, and she knew she probably should've stopped, but she loved making him blush. It was a cheap thrill, because he was such an easy target, but it made her happy nonetheless. "Is that not okay to say?"

"You can say whatever you want," he shrugged, sipping on his beer to hide his unhideable smile. "But let the record show, you have no reason to be jealous of anyone."

Michonne instinctively looked down at her chest, realizing that Rick was commenting on her tits, meaning he'd noticed them at some point or another, and it was her turn to feel bashful. The compliment set her cheeks on fire, especially as she contemplated what else he might've noticed. "All right, we're even," she declared, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm just sayin'," he smirked, feeling her discomfort.

"Yeah, I know what you're 'just saying.'" She glanced over at him, her eyes scanning his face, and more specifically, his lips, as he seemed to be licking them purposely slowly, which made her entire body start to quiver. She took that opportunity to switch on the TV, hoping for a distraction from her rogue thoughts. "So when are you heading back home?" she decided to ask, quickly landing on an episode of _Singled Out_. "I know your mom probably wanted you back there yesterday..."

He chuckled, appreciating that Michonne knew that to be true. "She did, but I told her it'd be Monday."

"You're gonna stay there the whole month?" she questioned, surprised. She simply couldn't imagine being in her parents' house for all of Christmas break.

"Probably," he shrugged. "She likes it when I'm home."

"Mama's boy," she retorted, sending a teasing grin his way.

Rick fixated on his friend's lips for far too long, he knew, but he found her smile to be positively enchanting sometimes. He couldn't look away if he wanted to. "Well it's not like I have anything better to do," he eventually remarked, still gazing at her.

She wasn't sure, but she felt like that was a dig at Lori, so she made it a point not to play into it, not wanting to take anyone's side. "You and I both know you're gonna be in the street with Shane the whole time, so don't try that pitiful act on me."

"In the street?" he repeated, smiling as he grabbed his beer again. "I don't even know what that means."

"It means I don't have to worry about you."

"Well that makes it sound like you're not planning to see me the whole time, and I dunno how I feel about that."

There he was again, flirting with her like he was getting paid for it, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering around, inappropriate as they were. "I already told you you're taking me to the movies next week," she reminded him, recovering rather quickly. "And don't think you're getting out of it either."

"I wasn't gonna try to get out of it," he laughed at her insistence on seeing this ridiculous movie. "I'll just spend the whole time eating like you did tonight."

"I didn't spend the _whole_ time eating, Rick."

"Yeah, there were maybe thirty minutes in the middle where you didn't have somethin' in your mouth. But that was it."

Immediately struck by the innuendo behind his words, Michonne gave him her best deadpan expression until he picked up on it, too, and the two of them promptly burst into laughter. Loud, unashamed, animated laughter.

"That's not what I meant," Rick promised as he sobered, his face flushing once more. "I mean, I meant it, but not the way it sounded…"

"I got it," she continued to giggle, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. He was so adorable when he laughed his big laugh, his cheeks going up to his eyes. She imagined that was what he looked like as a kid in his happiest moments. It was hard to conciliate those pure feelings with the lascivious ones that arose when she stared at his lips the way she had been all night. All year. More like two years, actually. Made worse by the fact that when he wore hats, they were all she could see. And because of them, she was sorely tempted to go back on her promise to herself not to drink in the year before she turned 21. She only had two months to go, but she could've really used some alcohol at the moment. She noticed Rick let out a tense sigh before sipping his beer, and she couldn't help but wonder whether his mind was moving as fast as hers.

"So… when are you goin' home?" he quietly inquired, the silence becoming too much for him. "I know you're doin' your girls' trip for New Year's…"

"My mom just said I better have my ass in the house by Christmas Eve, so... I dunno yet. Lori flies home on Wednesday, so I'll probably just stay when I take her to the airport."

Rick nodded, his eyes dancing around the dim room until they eventually landed on Michonne's thighs. His mind started to wander until he was thinking about things he had no right to be thinking about. But everything about her just seemed so perfect, from her skin to her svelte figure, to her gorgeous round face with the smile that made his heart beat faster. More than once, especially when they were close like this, he'd found himself picturing her naked, and he usually shook the thoughts away. But this time, he didn't, no longer having Lori to feel guilty about. He simply pulled off his cap, feeling lightheaded from the images he'd conjured up, and set down his beer. "So do you know what we're supposed to be doin' tomorrow night?"

"Umm, I think Andrea just mentioned the bar," Michonne answered in the form of a question. She picked herself up from the couch and scurried across the room to grab her purse from a neighboring chair. "I assume we'll do dinner and all that first."

He nodded again as he inwardly pondered who she'd gotten for Secret Santa. He had Daryl, probably the hardest person in the world to buy a gift for, while Shane had the good luck of getting Michonne. "You have your gift for your Secret Santa?" he decided to ask.

"All wrapped and ready," she assured him. "And before you ask, no, it's not you."

"I wasn't gonna ask that," he lied with a wide grin, watching her move back to the couch. "But since it's not me, you can tell me who it is."

"That's not how that works."

"I'll tell you who I have," he offered.

""Rick, this is not a 'show me yours, I'll show you mine' situation. It's called _Secret_ Santa for a reason."

"It only needs to be a secret to the person you're the Santa to."

Michonne couldn't exactly argue with his logic, but in truth, she was his Santa, and Andrea would've killed her if she figured out that he knew beforehand. "Did you steal my candy?" she frowned at him, still rifling through her purse for the white box she'd been looking for, also successfully changing the subject.

"Steal?" he repeated, pretending to be offended by the notion. "I was under the impression that we were sharing."

"What gave you that impression?"

"You asking me if I wanted some."

"'Some' did not mean 'all,' Grimes." She slumped back into her seat with a pout, wishing she'd known he was a greedy bastard so she could've bought another box before leaving the theater.

"You are so fuckin' serious about your food," he chuckled, following her same path to the chair to grab his jacket. He immediately found the mostly full box of Junior Mints, happy to return them to their rightful owner before she could sink into a depression about it. "Here."

She looked up at his proffered hand in surprise, and her eyes followed him as he reclaimed his seat, beaming as she rattled the box in her hand. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his eyes at her instant attitude change, but underneath his mock annoyance, he was really glad that he could make her smile like that. "Next time, I'll just know not to accept your offer."

"You can have _some_ ," she maintained, "just… don't finish the box and we're fine."

"Oh, we are fine," he agreed, already having decided on a solution to the problem. "I won't accept your offer. I'll get myself some Skittles or somethin'." He grinned, watching her pop one of the coveted candies into her mouth, and she was still smiling like a kid in a candy store. "You... have your mints," he mused in a near-whisper. He was also grinning from ear-to-ear at their silly conversation, oblivious to the fact that their hands were mere millimeters from one another until they touched. His pinky collided with hers and it felt like an electric jolt, the two of them locking eyes the second it hit them. Their smiles fell, replaced with confusion over the fact that their hands were inching closer, slowly, hesitantly, but overlapping nonetheless, until his palm was resting over hers, their fingers nervously intertwining.

He watched her take a deep breath, clearly just as unsure about what was happening as he was, and it made him relax. He offered a brief smile, knowing that the hand-holding said more than he ever could in that moment. Of course, it wasn't all he wanted to say. He'd been harboring a crush for this woman since the day she asked him to help her with Statistics, and he couldn't believe that someone like her would ever need anything from someone like him. But they'd become close in the two years since then - in some ways, even closer than he and Lori ever were. And as he sat there contemplating their short history, the time he'd spent denying what he felt, he decided in that moment that he was done with it.

Letting his mind go blank, his eyes focused only on Michonne's luscious lips, he slowly leaned in, and thankfully, she did too, meeting him halfway to a kiss. It started off gentle and chaste, only their lips touching at first as they got a feel for one another; as they slowly became cognizant of what was actually transpiring between them. But one taste of her lips and he was already hooked, going in for another deeper one, smiling inwardly and outwardly as he did.

Michonne felt like she was in a dream as Rick's tongue slipped into her mouth, his long, strong fingers gripping her braids as their kisses intensified. She could taste the beer on his tongue as it danced around with hers, mixing in with the chocolate and mint. And she tried to stop herself, but she found herself smiling too, because god, he was a good kisser and he made her feel not just good, but _wanted_ , and that was something she'd been lacking lately. He was tender, but he was fervent, and each time she inhaled, she got whiffs of cinnamon and Lever 2000, and his lips were unsurprisingly soft, same as his hair as she combed through the curls at his nape. Every smooch was longer than the last, their tongues and breaths intertwining in a heady expression of all their unspoken feelings. After a while, she felt drunk on him, so intoxicated, she barely noticed when or how she ended up her on her back. She seemed to have simply drifted there, with Rick landing between her thighs without even a hint of breaking their kiss. And even her mints going crashing to the floor couldn't break her concentration on his lips.

Kissing Michonne was everything Rick thought it would be - her lips were like two tiny, heavenly pillows, and finally getting to feel them, taste them, unabashedly suck them as they made out, he knew he could die a happy man. He didn't take long to explore the rest of her, though, his mouth moving down her jawline until he reached her neck, lapping at her skin, inhaling her lavender scent like it was his air; all while his hands roamed up her shirt with reckless abandon. His inhibitions and apprehensions had flown out the window, and all he could think about was the woman underneath him. Her fingers in his hair as she quietly, almost inaudibly moaned in response to his kisses. His hands had fumbled their way into her bra, and he could feel his dick going hard as the pads of his fingers touched her erect nipples.

"Oh, god," Michonne gently purred when she felt his hard-on grazing her thigh, his warm hands squeezing her breasts as he continued to suck at her throat. Everything was happening so quickly, but her brain seemed to be processing it in slow motion, because it only hit her then that she was about to have sex with Rick. And more to the point, how badly she wanted to have sex with him. She watched him swiftly remove his sweater, revealing his lean naked torso, and she smiled at the sight, knowing she'd be enjoying this heavenly body on top of her soon enough.

Rick hurriedly undid the buttons of her Henley shirt, allowing him access to her cleavage from the top, and pulled down the cups of her bra to uncover her supple tits, the two perky brown mounds making his mouth water. He was damn right when he said she had no reason to be jealous of anyone else. She wrapped her legs around his waist, making his cock throb every time he imagined being inside her, but he was determined to maintain his composure. He licked his full lips before wrapped his mouth around her magnificently soft breast, rolling his tongue around her nipple until it went hard again, moaning to himself as he tasted her skin. His right hand fondled the other, squeezing and teasing it to both their delights. Her body was as perfect as he thought, lithe in all the right places, hard in all the others. He wanted to spend the entire night discovering it.

And Michonne was still reeling, unused to the feeling of being this close to Rick, his hot tongue devouring her tits, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge. She had goosebumps, the entire lower half of her body pulsating, desperate to feel him inside her. He felt so good, which was probably why it all felt so bad. So wrong. She had someone. Someone she loved, though she wondered sometimes if they were outgrowing one another. And even if Rick wasn't with Lori at the moment, she knew he had her, too. And having sex with him would only further complicate a bunch of already complicated relationships. "Wait," she quietly sighed, hating herself for having a conscience at the exact moment she was about to get laid for the first time in over a month. As Rick pulled back, those hungry blue eyes and swollen lips pink lips staring back at her, she nearly lost her resolve. "Mike," she managed to croak out, along with a frown, as she hesitantly unlocked her legs from around his waist.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, suddenly reminded that she wasn't exactly free in the same way he was. Her boyfriend had been in New York for the better part of the semester, which was why he and Michonne had been spending so much time together in the first place, but Mike was still very much her man. "I'm sorry," he added, sitting up on his knees while she pulled her shirt back into place. "I completely forgot."

She smiled timidly as she sat up, too, feeling just how wet she'd gotten in only a matter of minutes. Goddamn her conscience. "Don't apologize," she shook her head. Truthfully, she had forgotten too, and she was the one who needed to feel bad for it. "Heat of the moment."

"No kidding," Rick quipped with raised eyebrows. Not only did he forget about Mike, but the fact that Lori could've walked through the front door at any second. He carefully repositioned to a regular sitting position, his eyes scanning the room as if he'd never seen it before. Because he couldn't bring himself to look at Michonne; not right then. It was hard enough to pretend that he didn't like her as much as he did, but knowing - _feeling_ \- that it was mutual, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with that. How he was supposed to just move on from that. On the bright side, at least he'd have all of the Christmas break to figure his shit out.

"Are you okay?" Michonne asked cautiously, kneeling beside him. His unusual silence was making her feel even more uncomfortable than she already was.

"I think so," he nodded, turning his head in her direction, though his eyes stayed focused on the window ahead of him. "Are you?"

"Yeah," she whispered, hoping she sounded sure of herself. "It was just… a few minutes. It doesn't have to define anything."

Rick nodded, but he wasn't entirely sure how to believe that yet. "You mind if I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course not."

"Is Mike really the reason?" he posed, his gaze finally finding her face. For a moment at least. "Or is it Lori?"

She flashed a sullen smile at his question, wishing he didn't know her as well as he did. She didn't even know when that happened, him being able to read her better than just about anyone. But his question was a valid one. Because as much as she would've liked to chalk up Lori to just her roommate so that her guilt wouldn't eat her up, the truth was, they were friends. They'd become close in the time they lived together, and there was just no way Michonne could ever be with Rick, no matter how much Lori claimed not to want him, without hurting her. She nodded as she locked eyes with him, knowing that what she was about to say was shitty for them both - it meant that this was as far as it could ever go. "It's Lori."

* * *

_Present day_.

"We've gotta stop meeting like this, Grimes."

Rick glanced up at the sound of Michonne's feathery voice, and he instantly smiled at the sight of her. He hadn't seen much of her all day. "I dunno, I kinda like meeting like this," he chuckled, accepting the cold beer she offered him. He scooted over a few inches to give her space on his towel, and he offered his hand to assist her down.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, settling in beside him. The seat was warm, thanks to him, and the sand was cool against her toes, while the view - both Rick and the endless, dark sea - were a feast for her eyes.

"Just enjoying the beach," he sighed contentedly. "Needed some quiet."

"After all day with the kids, I bet you do," she smirked before taking a long sip of her own beer. "You're good with them, though."

He sent a reserved smile her way, appreciating the compliment. "You'd think that after sixteen years, I'd be confident in that, but I'm not," he confessed. "So thank you for sayin' it."

She cocked her head in curiosity, surprised to hear that from him. He was such a good dad, she didn't know how it wasn't obvious to him. "You really don't think you are?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm bad or anything, but. I'm not as good as you are," he declared with a one-shoulder shrug. "Sometimes I get jealous of you and Carl. Wondering what you're always talkin' about."

"Oh god." Michonne's smile at his confession turned into a chuckle as she thought about how uncomfortable she got while talking to Carl that particular morning; how she hightailed it out of there and steered clear of him all afternoon just to avoid answering a question she was unsure how to respond to. It wasn't like her at all. But then, she hadn't been feeling like herself all day, so that fell right into place. "We usually talk about you," she revealed, brushing imaginary sand from her dress. "Today's conversation was… enlightening." She glanced over at him, knowing he'd be intrigued by her choice of word.

Rick sat up a little straighter, most definitely wondering what that was meant to imply. "Enlightening? In what way."

"In the way that he told me about your _friend,_ Jessie." She watched him again, waiting for him to react; looking for something she could read into. But she got nothing unusual, only that stupid squint he always did when he was listening too hard.

"Why'd you say 'friend' like that," he laughed, a bit taken aback when he noticed her stare.

"Because it sounds to me like she's more than a friend, and I can't believe we sat up for _hours_ last night, and you didn't even mention her name," she said, poking his thigh in mock resentment with every other word she spoke. "Why are you keeping secrets?"

"I'm not keepin' anything," he continued to laugh as he moved away from her, shielding himself from her fingers. "There's nothin' to say about Jessie that I haven't already told you."

She gazed at him for a long time, still trying and failing to read his expression. She didn't know Rick to be a liar, even over unimportant subjects like this, but she was finding it difficult to believe him. "So this Tara person that she's coming with. Is it her girlfriend, or a girl... friend?" That was the first thing she needed to clarify.

"A girl friend. As in, a friend of hers that's a girl." He answered confidently before adding, "I think."

"How do you not know?"

"Because I didn't ask," he quipped, chuckling at her serious tone. "She's just getting out of a marriage, so I don't think she likes girls. But hell, maybe she wanted to try somethin' new."

Michonne's grimace only intensified as she realized she truly had no idea what the hell was going on, which was putting her in a state of unease. "Rick…"

"I don't know what Carl told you," he laughed. "I think I'm scared to even find out. But... Jessie is a friend and only a friend."

"So you're _not_ thinking about dating this woman?"

"No." He said it plainly and emphatically before taking a sip of his beer. He enjoyed how invested Michonne seemed to be in his love life, but he wasn't sure why this was so unbelievable to her. "You don't think I would've mentioned that last night?"

"Or before last night," she nodded. "Yes, I do. That was my whole point."

"And it didn't occur to you that Carl just didn't know what the hell he was talking about?"

"Well he's a pretty sharp kid," she said in her own defense. "If he thinks you're interested in her, it must be for a reason." She raised a playful eyebrow at him, also taking a swig of her beer. "Is she attractive?"

"I mean…" Rick shrugged again, trying to think of a way to describe her. "Yeah, she's fine."

"She's fine?" Michonne repeated him, tickled by the description - or lack thereof. "As in, 'Damn, she fine'? Or like, 'She's… fine, I guess'?"

He let out a quiet cackle at the two options, though mostly at her intonation as she offered them. "I mean, she's an attractive woman," he said, shaking his head. "What's it to you anyway?"

"I just find it rather strange that you invited this random woman down here if you truly have _no_ interest in her," she said, resting her body weight on her left arm so that she could get a proper view of her friend. "I know it's been a while for you, but that's not how most people do things."

Rick smiled in amusement, gazing out to the dark horizon as he contemplated exactly how to put his feelings into words. "You know," he started, his voice just barely audible over the crashing waves, "when you left Atlanta, it was like my right hand kinda got up and left me."

In reply, Michonne immediately stopped drinking and smirking, and she peered at him, thinking she'd misheard. "What?"

"Maybe more like my left hand," he reconsidered with a quiet chuckle. "I didn't have anyone to call when I needed a favor. No one to take Judith at a moment's notice. Today reminded me of how we had become that for each other." A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he thought about all the times he'd picked up Andre from school, and after Lori died, all the times Michonne would take Judith. To gymnastics or soccer practice when he couldn't. Or sometimes, just to spend the night at her place. He missed that. He missed Carl and Judith having her close. "So Jessie stepped in," he went on to explain, glancing over at her then. "She was at home a lot, so she'd cook for us every so often. When Carl was doing his sports and clubs, she'd take Judith after school. Never asked for anything in return. I could've hired a nanny, but she _wanted_ to do it, she said."

Michonne smiled ruefully herself and nodded, "That's good to hear."

"So when you suggested that we invite friends down for New Year's, she was the first person that came to mind," he revealed. "I don't know how to actually repay her... How to say, 'Thank you for taking care of my family when I couldn't.' There's no card for that." His eyes flitted to the spot between them, noticing Michonne's hand mere centimeters from his thigh. "But I owe her."

She exhaled deeply, feeling both encouraged and dejected by his explanation. She was relieved that he found the assistance he needed, but she wished he hadn't needed it. "I'm so sorry I left," she told him sincerely.

Rick replied with a warm smile, but he shook his head at the thought. "Don't you dare be sorry," he said, gazing up at the sky and then back to the glorious resort sitting just behind them. "Look at what you've built here. Don't ever be sorry for doing exactly what you wanted to do."

She could hear the genuine marvel in his voice as he referred to her place, and she appreciated it. She appreciated him. He was always so encouraging about it, even when it was clear that he didn't want her to go. He still told her she should. "Thank you for saying that," she nodded, blinking back tears. "I need to hear that every once in a while."

He was quick to pick up on her tears - or more accurately, her gorgeous eyes glistening in the darkness, and it reminded him of how she'd been sullen earlier, too. "Everything all right?" he tried to ask casually, but knew the concern in his voice was evident.

"Yeah," she sighed again. "Just been a strange day. Weird moods."

"So there was nothin' wrong with you earlier?" he pressed. "When you and the kids came in from the beach this morning?"

"It was silly," she smiled shyly, loving but hating that he'd even noticed. She gulped down some more of her drink to try and conceal her awkwardness about it, but it wasn't working. Rick only stared at her, obviously waiting for a valid answer. "The kids," she chuckled. "They were just… talking. Being kids," she shook her head, knowing it was ridiculous that she'd ever gotten upset about it. "But out of nowhere, Judith asked Andre what it was like to have a mother, and… I dunno, it just kinda broke my heart," she admitted quietly. She looked over to him to get his reaction, but his gaze stayed focused on the shoreline, his expression unreadable from her angle. "Then Andre asked her what it was like to have a dad," she sniffled, "and I… felt like I was being strangled. Mainly by my own feelings."

He looked at her then, his face falling as he realized she still wasn't over it. "Michonne…"

"I know they're okay," she allowed, still feeling silly. "They're happy, good kids. But they're missing something. _Andre_ is missing out on a father because I picked the wrong one for him." She knew she was oversimplifying the issue, but that was genuinely what it felt like to her. "I'm so scared that I'm fucking him up, Rick."

"But you said it yourself – he's happy. He's safe. He has a mother that loves him more than anything in the world," he whispered, reaching out to touch her back, his thumb caressing her bare arm. "You're doing everything right. Why are you taking the blame for what Mike didn't do?"

"Because he's my son," she maintained, wiping a stray tear. "And I want him to have everything."

He nodded, understanding that sentiment well. He saw his own mother struggle with the same things for him and his brother. Even Lori, at the end, was so concerned about what their children would turn into without their mother. "I think it's normal for those feelings of doubt to surface every now and then. Being a single parent is so hard," he declared, his voice raspy but soft. "My mom just worked… tirelessly. And of course, I thought nothin' of it back then. I just knew that that was what she was supposed to do as a parent." He continued to run her back as he spoke. "But now I know how difficult it all was. Gettin' dinner on the table every night, gettin' us to school every morning. Happy birthdays and Christmases and school trips and college." He smiled as he thought of his tiny, proud mama, then looked back at Michonne, his hand falling back to his side, just beside hers. "I did okay without two parents," he reminded her. "My mom did give me everything."

"She did," Michonne grinned, her mind also drifting to Cindy Grimes for a brief moment. Rick, along with his brother Jeffrey, and millions of other people, were living proof that single parenthood didn't ruin anything. She just hoped that would be true for her child. "So the kids ended up deciding that they would share their parents," she revealed, the amusement apparent in her voice again. "That didn't kill me or anything."

Rick laughed heartily at that, though the notion was actually quite heartwarming. "They're gonna _share_ us?" he repeated. "I'm guessing that's why Judith kept telling Andre, 'See, he's a good daddy'?"

Michonne immediately and genuinely laughed too, finding their innocence so endearing. "Well Andre didn't sell me very well. He's like, 'Well, she's _okay._ She makes you do your math homework, but other than that…'"

"You know you don't need selling to Judith or Carl," he reminded her. "They both could not _wait_ to see you."

"I couldn't wait to see them," she agreed with a happy nod. "Talking to Carl today was the only thing to actually make me feel better."

"He's funny, isn't he?" Rick grinned proudly.

"So funny," she chuckled. "And so open. There's this honesty about him that's really refreshing."

He delighted in that description of his son, and specifically, that Michonne was so easily able to see that in him. "Not open enough to ask me about who he thinks I'm dating, apparently."

"I think he just didn't wanna overstep his boundaries," she suggested, though she wasn't sure she believed it herself. He certainly didn't seem to have any with her. "Maybe you should let him know that you're not interested in her that way."

"Yeah, I guess I should," he sighed, still chuckling at the fact that his son managed to arrive at this conclusion without ever talking to him. "I just don't know where he got that idea in the first place. The only thing we've ever done together is go running around our neighborhood."

"Well…" Michonne shrugged, trying to work out how Carl, as bright as he was, would misread the situation. Then again, he wouldn't know about the intricacies of dating at his age. "I dunno, maybe Jessie's said something. Maybe she has a thing for you, and that's what he's picking up on."

"I don't think she does," he frowned. "I don't know why she would."

"Oh, yeah right," she rolled her eyes at his attempt to be modest. "You know exactly why she would."

"I don't mean it like that." He began to blush as he spoke, enjoying that Michonne could obviously see why someone would take an interest in him. "I just mean because we haven't spent that much time together. She doesn't know me."

"Well yeah, she probably wants to get to know you," she said, feeling like she was stating the obvious. She swallowed down the rest of her Corona, shaking her head at his obliviousness. "You're so bad at noticing these things."

Rick turned to Michonne once more, his eyes scanning her face for some sign that she was joking; maybe somehow actually referring to herself. But it seemed that she really believed what she'd just said. "You're one to talk," he eventually declared, impressed that she could let that fall from her lips with a straight face.

Michonne detected a hint of flirtation in his tone, and her eyes narrowed on him, watching his lips wrap around the opening of his bottle as he took a drink. "What's that supposed to mean?" she questioned, unable to take her eyes off of his mouth.

He only smirked as he swallowed down the ale, unsure whether she was truly confused, or if she was simply pretending to be, because she was scared of what it meant. He'd been here before, and things didn't go so well the first time around, so he wasn't going to force the issue. Either way, he figured she'd get it sooner or later. "Nothin'."


	6. Accidentally In Love

A few days later, and things on the island were going swimmingly. The group had gotten fully acclimated to their new temporary lifestyle, from the perfect summery weather to the five-star service Michonne and Carol provided. In the four days since they'd arrived to Anguilla, they'd gone sightseeing at Sandy Ground Village, scuba diving on Dog Island, fishing and golfing at Island Harbour, and most recently, swimming with the dolphins at Blowing Point beach. It had been an exhilarating week so far, and with Christmas Eve on the horizon, the group decided not to make any plans for their fifth day on the island. It had been designated a casual Friday.

Which was why Shane and Andrea were reasonably perturbed when their makeout session in the sea was interrupted by the sound of hoots and hollers from their friends on the shore, all of them toting paddleboards, seemingly ready to go off on some adventure.

Shane promptly removed his hands from his wife's bikini top with a sigh and peered back at the enthusiastic group. "I thought we had a free day!" he shouted to them.

Andrea shook her head, licking her lips of her husband as she remembered that privacy was only an abstract concept when it came to this group. "Come on," she directed him with an exasperated exhale. "We'll pick it up tonight."

"Now you know your ass is knocked out by eight o'clock every night," he called after her, begrudgingly wading through the waist-high water to head back to shore. "I don't even know why you tell that lie."

"I'll take a nap today," she promised, smirking back at him. Almost a week on one of the most beautiful, romantic islands in the world – Michonne's place was located on a cove called _Rendezvous_ Bay, after all – and they'd yet to have sex. Mostly due to all her different six-month-pregnant ailments. But she was going to try her damnedest that night.

"I know we're outside the US, but public indecency is still against the law," Carol commented with a wide grin as the happy couple made it to the group. "And I'm not bailing you out."

"So you're sayin' that not only would you let your baby brother rot in jail, but your sister-in-law, and your unborn niece and nephew?" Shane prodded her with his best guilt trip.

"No, just you," she smiled back, offering a towel to said sister-in-law.

"What are you guys doing?" Andrea huffed, a bit out of breath from the short walk. "I thought we were just lounging today."

"We were," Jenny interjeted, tying a colorful scarf around her curly hair, "but my husband had the great idea to go paddle surfing, and now, here we are," she gestured to her big yellow paddleboard before rolling her eyes at Morgan.

"I just figured, how many times are we gonna be in Anguilla?" he cut in in his own defense. "We should enjoy the time we have here."

"Well Michonne lives here now, so we'll probably be here a lot," she countered.

"Where is Michonne anyway," Andrea asked, scanning the small group for missing parties. "And Rick?"

"Somewhere together, I'm guessing," Carol mumbled with a deliberate smirk. The two of them had been thick as thieves all week long, and it had not gone unnoticed, namely by herself and Andrea, but they'd yet to find an opportunity to bring it up to either of them.

"Are they coming?" Andrea continued to wonder as she peered inside, not seeing any sign of them.

"They've got young kids," Morgan coolly reminded them. "Give 'em a minute."

"Somethin' tells me it ain't the kids that's keepin' 'em," Daryl cut in, taking a big sloppy bite of the egg sandwich he'd been forced to take to go. "Y'all know they've spent every night together this week, right?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed at that bit of information, unsure what it was meant to imply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well it's Rick, so probably nothin' much," he joked with a smirk, "but it's hard not to notice."

"So do we think it's gonna be, like, a thing?" Andrea wondered, gazing at Shane, as he seemed atypically quiet, perhaps pretending to be uninterested in the subject, but she knew him too well to believe that. "What do you think?"

"I think we should mind our business," he nodded somewhat seriously. He didn't know what, exactly, was going on, but he'd figured out a long time ago that Rick's feelings for Michonne weren't always so platonic. And if he was taking that leap into something more, the last thing he wanted was for their friends and all their nosy-ass questions to deter him. "If there's anything goin' on, we'll find out soon enough."

Just then, Michonne and Rick came waltzing out of the bed and breakfast with their matching boards, bathing suits, and bright smiles, Andre and Judith flanking them with juice boxes and sand toys. They looked like one of those families that would cover some forward-thinking beachwear catalog or vacation brochure. Michonne regarded the group with her typical charming grin before noticing the strange, possibly suspicious looks on half their faces. "What?" she demanded to know. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Carol was quick to cut in, tending to have the best poker face among them. "We're just glad you're finally here."

"We had to make a stop at the bathroom first," Rick nodded toward the two little ones.

Morgan glanced over to Daryl and Andrea with his best I-told-you-so face as he patted Rick on the back. "Where's Carl? Is he comin'?"

"Should be right out," Michonne answered for him, still skeptical of her friends and all the weird looks being passed around. "Are you guys _sure_ everything is okay?"

"Yep," Andrea chimed in cheerfully. She was already taking Andre's hand and waddling her way toward Judith as she eyed Carol. "If you two don't mind, though, I'm gonna stay back with the kids? I'm not really in the mood to try and balance on one of those things," she nodded at the colorful paddle boards they were all toting. "You guys wanna hang out with me today?"

"I do!" Judith raised her hand excitedly.

"Can we go get ice cream?" Andre asked, that being the only thing on his agenda for the day.

Michonne and Rick gazed at each other in mutual agreement and befuddlement, but they certainly weren't going to complain about a few kid-free hours during the day. "After lunch," Michonne advised both Andrea and Andre as she left her son and goddaughter with forehead kisses. "Be good."

Shane knew full well that his wife was only meddling, wanting to take the kids so that Rick and Michonne would have some time alone, but he couldn't knock her hustle. "You really wanna do this?" he chuckled, leaving her with a kiss, too.

"Sure do," she quipped quietly. "We've only got another week here. I think they could use a little push."

* * *

"Should we be this far behind them?" Michonne wondered out loud as she watched the image of their friends ahead of them grow smaller and smaller, effectively leaving the two of them behind.

And speaking of behind, Rick was rather distracted by the one in front of him, just barely covered by her red bikini. Michonne wasn't thick by any definition - she was tiny, in fact - but her ass was magnificently plump, like a perfect peach. And he had a front row seat to it as they paddled their way through Barnes Bay, and it had stolen his focus more than once throughout their short excursion.

"Riiick?" she turned back to him, ruffled by his silence, thinking her sing-song tone would bring him back to her. But instead, she was thrown even further by his contracting biceps as he paddled his way next to her, forgetting why she'd even called his name.

"Why are they so far ahead of us?" he asked obliviously, peering at their disappearing group. On the one hand, he was happy to take any opportunity he could to be alone with Michonne on this trip - especially in this bikini; but on the other, even his son had abandoned them, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Are we doin' it wrong?"

Michonne giggled at his question, her mind going straight to the gutter, while it was clear he hadn't heard a word she said before him. She nonchalantly let one foot drag through the warm water as they floated toward their destination. "I dunno, I was under the impression this was a leisurely ride, but maybe we misunderstood."

"You think we should try to catch up to 'em?"

She attempted to give him a playful glance, one that would goad him into a race, but her gaze got stuck on his arms again, and it didn't want to let them go. She'd always known Rick to be lean - he was a runner, after all - and she liked that about his physique. It fit him. But seeing him half-naked every time they stepped into the ocean, it was obvious he'd been doing more than running lately. "Have you been lifting weights?" she decided to ask, unintentionally ignoring his question.

Rick's eyebrows raised in surprise, though he took his time unraveling what her inquiry meant. "Are you checkin' me out?" he grinned, albeit a bit self-consciously. But he figured if she was asking that, she probably liked what she saw.

"I am," she admitted with a cheeky smile, her eyes dancing across his chest and down his tight torso, about as smooth as the dolphins they'd gone swimming with the day before. "And when'd you start shaving your chest?" She chuckled again, thinking back to a time where he had hair on his body instead of his face.

Her questions left him feeling sheepish, so he decided not to respond, letting his flushed face do the talking for him. "So are we catchin' up with them, or do you wanna hang back here and keep checkin' each other out?"

Michonne smiled at his thinly-veiled confession, glad to know that her favorite swimsuit wasn't going to waste. "Tempting as that sounds, we probably shouldn't stray too far behind."

"Probably," he granted. Watching her glide along so effortlessly was doing a number on his confidence, given he could barely stay upright on his board. "I'll follow you," he offered.

"You wanna race?" she grinned back at him mischievously.

He didn't really, but the cocky smirk on her face was clearly taunting him, so saying no wasn't exactly an option. Plus, on the off chance he did win, he would enjoy the bragging rights that came with it. "Let's go then."

"Let's go," she repeated him, playfully antagonizing him before taking off. She giggled with glee as she expertly paddled her way through the calm waves, making headway toward the rest of the group and away from Rick with every stride. With the wind whipping past her face and nothing but an endless view of blue in front of her, it almost felt as though she was flying for a moment. "You okay back there," she turned back to Rick.

"Slow and steady," he nodded, keeping his eyes on the water. Every wave that passed, no matter how small, threatened to knock him off his feet, and he was determined to stay ready for them. "You should just worry about yourself."

"I don't need to worry about myself," she retorted. "I'm worried about you, because I'm about to leave you, and I don't wanna have to do that."

"Yeah, you're so kind," Rick sent back. Despite the sarcasm in their tones, the playfulness was evident. They were flirting. "You know, the more you talk, the more I gain on you," he noted proudly as he came up on the back of her board. "Keep talkin'."

"Goddamn it," she muttered, hearing his voice just behind her. She started to paddle a bit faster, no longer interested in a casual stride. She wanted to win.

Rick, on the other hand, was struggling just to redirect his paddleboard, every stroke only forcing him ahead faster. "Michonne-"

She turned as he called her, presumably to warn her, but before he could get the words out, his board was gliding into hers, sending them both crashing into the water unexpectedly. "Rick!" she shrieked as she fell in a giant splash.

As they came up for air, pulling off their Ray-Bans to wipe their soaked faces and brush back their dripping hair, Rick stared at Michonne; the way she glistened beneath the sun as she drifted toward him and her board, and he smiled. And so did she. Too lost in the moment to berate him for upending her. It was certainly helped by the fact that she got to enjoy that glorious gray beard, dripping wet, thereby sending her mind right back to the aforementioned gutter. Their eyes stayed locked, captivated, the two of them floating, both figuratively and literally around one another. Until Rick's smile evolved into a quiet chuckle, causing Michonne to giggle too. And before long, they were laughing uncontrollably, for reasons they'd never be able to articulate if asked. Loudly, genuinely, with big smiles that went up to their eyes and showed all their teeth and made them look like the two happiest people on earth. And for that tiny moment, they very well might've been.

* * *

Two hours later, the reunited group had made the decision to add parasailing to their list of activities for the day, and were seated around a parasail boat, speeding toward wide open sea. The idea was for the eight of them to pair off, each twosome getting a fifteen-minute ride through the sky. But as the clock began to wind down, Michonne found herself sitting with a serious case of jitters.

"Michonne," Carol called out to her friend, noting the apprehension behind her sunglasses. Twenty years in the classroom had given her plenty of experience with reading people. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she exhaled with a nod, trying to focus on positive thoughts instead of the ones that depicted her slipping out of the parasail and plummeting to her death. It was fine. She'd be fine. "It's just hard for me to wrap my head around humans being in the sky without an airplane. But I'm fine."

"It's like eight hundred feet," Carl coolly reminded her, rather amused at how utterly uncool she was being about this. "Even if your rope snapped, you'd just fall into the water and you really would be totally fine."

"Yes, thank you," she tensely and sarcastically returned. "That helps a lot."

"Weren't you the one that wanted to go cliff diving when we were in Mexico?" Shane recalled from the other side of Carl. "Y'all remember that?"

"We did go," Daryl cut in, recalling that he was the only one willing to even take the jump with her. "The rest of y'all punked out like a buncha pussies."

"I never agreed to go in the first place," Jenny submitted with a raised hand. "You remember what I told you when you suggested it?" she directed to Michonne.

She smiled with recollection, letting it morph into a small chuckle as she realized Jenny had probably been right. "You said that I'd been hanging out with these white people too long." As the rest of the boat laughed, Michonne was quick to add, "That was many years ago, though. I've learned my lesson."

"Well I'm pretty sure this is much less dangerous than cliff diving," Carol declared, attempting to comfort her. "It's supposed to be relaxing."

Michonne only scoffed at the thought before looking to Rick, noticing that he hadn't said much of anything since they'd stepped on the boat. "Are _you_ okay," she questioned him, lightly knocking his right knee with her left.

"Yeah," he promised quietly, taking the opportunity to glance at her profile. His mind had briefly wandered to that 1999 trip to Acapulco commemorating their graduation from UGA. One of countless fun vacations he'd been on with this group. But the only thing he really recalled about that particular trip was how distant he and Michonne had become by then. Never alone in the same room anymore - not before one of them would scurry off for some feigned reason. And even when they were amongst the group, their interactions were few and far between. He didn't even know she wanted to jump off of a cliff. And that was something he would've remembered. "Just thinkin' about that trip."

"Was that the one where you and Lori ended up with Carl nine months later?" Shane tried to recollect out loud.

Rick started to blush as everyone laughed, but he was quick to clarify, "We made Carl in Jamaica, actually."

"I was the one who got knocked up after Acapulco," Jenny tipsily raised her hand again. "Apparently these trips don't make for great birth control."

"Quite the opposite, it seems," Michonne laughed, her gaze landing on Rick again.

"Jesus, were all of us accidents?" Carl interjected amid the continued laughter. His expression was a mixture of disgust and amusement as he was reminded, yet again, that his parents were once young and irresponsible.

"You were a _surprise_ ," Rick corrected him, cocking his head back to get a glimpse of his son's face. "Judith was the accident."

More spirited laughter erupted from the group at Rick's joke, just as the captain made his way down to the deck with the rest of them. A short, tan, kind Englishman named Angus, who'd walked them through every step of the process more than once. "All right then," he announced with a clap of his hands. "So we're in our safe fly zone, and we can take up the first couple," he said, looking directly to Rick and Michonne. "You and the lovely lady ready to give it a go?"

"Oh..." Rick looked over to Michonne, smiling awkwardly. "You want to?"

She shrugged, still uneasy about the idea, but the thought of being next to Rick for the duration made it considerably less stressful. "Carl, you mind if I steal your dad?" she directed back to her godson.

"Please take him," he waved off, smiling at the pairing. "Shane and I already decided to go up together."

"Of course you did," Rick chuckled, hopping up from his seat with his apparent partner for the day. He helped her into her life vest before securing his own, all while Angus scurried around them, strapping a harness around their legs, along with their parachute. "You still nervous?" he asked Michonne.

"Yep," she returned immediately. But then topped it off with a smile before adding, "The life vest helps, though."

Together, the two of them made their way to the bow of the boat and took their seats as they'd been previously instructed, all while the rest of the group cheered them on. Michonne grinned again, because their silliness also helped to alleviate her fears quite a bit. She kept her eyes on Rick's feet as Angus and his assistant began to wind the crank that lifted them into the air, thankful that the ascent was was slow and steady. She barely even noticed when the boat was no longer beneath them, only air and a few splashes of water here and there. And higher and higher they went, their friends and their boat becoming smaller with every second, and she let out a tiny yelp. Excitement. Relief. Disbelief. Probably a mixture of all three. Because now, instead of feeling like she was flying, she actually was.

Rick should've been looking at the view beneath him. He knew it was breathtaking; something he'd want video of, to show Judith since she was too young to make this trip herself. But instead, he was fixated on Michonne. Because there was nothing more gorgeous than seeing her like this, suspended in awe, with the innocence of a child discovering some part of the world for the first time. She looked free. And it was stunning on her.

"Do you see this?" she asked in the highest of pitches, oblivious to his stare as she gazed at the impossibly blue and turquoise water beneath them. "My god." She looked above them, taking in the sky, and the bright purple and yellow parachute floating over them, then back to the sea below, trying to take mental pictures of it all. She wanted to remember this.

"It's not so bad up here, right?" he grinned, happy to see that she'd relaxed. Her shoulders had fallen, and she no longer had a vice grip on their harness, only holding on with one hand now.

She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling the sea air and exhaling sharply as she shook her head. "It's perfect up here."

Quietly, the two of them enjoyed the ride as they sailed past all the different coves and harbors that Anguilla had to offer. It was a romantic moment, even if only in the idyllic sense of the word, but it spoke to Michonne. It spoke to what she'd been feeling for Rick all day; all week. A happiness. Hell, she felt downright giddy around him sometimes. And it was why she didn't think twice about reaching out to take his hand. The moment almost demanded it, and she was happy to oblige. Those sparks were still there, and the magnetic pull too, as their fingers seemed to interlace on their own, and it made her smile. _He_ made her smile. And for the first time in her life, she was wondering if - nay, she was _hoping_ \- she didn't have to be afraid of that.

* * *

_January 2000._

Michonne let out a long, shaky exhale, watching as her warm breath mixed with bitingly cold air and then dissipated into nothingness. Central Park was a gorgeous sight in winter, and Tavern on the Green, especially so, all the trees densely decorated in white lights, now dotted with recently fallen snow. She'd learned it was one of few places in the city where snow didn't immediately turn brown and yellow within the day. And she was so excited to be there, celebrating the new year, enjoying her friends for the first time since summer. She'd only been gone from Atlanta for a few months, but god, she had missed it. She missed _them_. So why was she outside freezing to death when she could've and should've been inside with them? Probably for the same reason she felt like she'd been knocked off her feet when Rick and Lori announced their engagement. But she didn't know, or rather, didn't care to admit the answer to either of those questions.

The moment kept replaying in her head, though. After all the hugs and pleasantries were exchanged, she watched her best friend pull off her gloves and there it was, plain as day. Nothing big and impressive, which she wouldn't have expected from someone like Rick, even if he did have money, but it was a surprisingly elegant princess cut diamond on a simple silver band. She noticed it instantly, but the implication didn't hit her until several seconds later when her friend began to proudly show it off. And Michonne squealed and teared up, as BFFs are supposed to do for such occasions, but before they could even finish their celebratory round of champagne, she had excused herself to the bathroom, and instead, ended up outside the crowded restaurant, freezing and sighing.

"Hey," a tentative voice called out from behind her.

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was Rick, but wishing it had been Mike instead. She hadn't spoken to Rick in forever - not in any way that mattered, and she couldn't imagine what she would say to him now. "You should go back inside," she replied, not turning to look at him.

"You should too," he said, his voice getting closer. "I said I was going to the bathroom, but it'll look strange if we're both gone too long."

"Why are you out here?" she asked, ignoring his suggestion as he approached her left.

"Because I saw your reaction when Lori broke the news," he nodded quietly. His tone was gentle, knowing that what he was going to say next was nearly the opposite. "The real one," he appended. "Before you could paint the happy face over it."

Michonne finally glanced at him then, hating that he'd caught it. Did it mean that others did too? Or was he just that good at reading her?

"I was gonna talk to you about it first," he went on when he knew she wouldn't respond. "Maybe get your opinion on the ring. But… we haven't exactly been those kinda friends for a while."

"Yeah, well whose fault is that?" she quipped, turning her head away from him. She'd noticed a horse-drawn carriage pull up to the restaurant, the implied romance of it making her roll her eyes. It was about the last thing she wanted to see at that moment.

Rick chuckled at her sarcastic tone, unsure of how to reply to that question. As far as he was concerned, it was both their faults, at best. "Well I'm hoping you can just be happy for us," he submitted quietly.

"And I'm hoping you'll realize how stupid this is before you actually do it."

"Stupid?" he repeated, offended by her choice of word, his eyebrows quirked to show it. "What's stupid about it?"

"I can't think of anything that isn't stupid about getting married right now."

"So was I supposed to put my life on pause because you didn't want me as much as I wanted you?" he asked, peering at the side of her face.

Michonne gazed back at him, incredulous at his gall, but also genuinely sad that he would frame it that way. And it made her want to cry. Because for a time - after their moment on the couch; after they returned from Christmas break and he got back together with Lori like it never happened - she wanted him so badly she did cry. A lot. "That's really how you saw it?"

"That's what happened, Michonne."

She scoffed in frustration and in disbelief, questioning how that was the conclusion he'd managed to jump to. She had a mind to just tell him everything she'd been feeling for the last two years. The guilt over what they'd done, regret over what they didn't do. The jealousy that crept up when she saw him with her. The sadness over their disintegrated friendship. How she applied solely to law schools out of state because she didn't want to be around them. Him. But she was too angry at him to be that vulnerable. "You're gonna ruin your life," she said instead, her tone succinct. "No one gets married at 23."

"People do it all the time."

"People with nothing better to do."

He laughed mockingly at her objection to it all, unsure why she even cared. "What would you have me do, Michonne? Wait for you?" His typically warm southern drawl was hard, his frustration apparent, too. "You being in New York for three years is one thing, but I'm not sure how long it's gonna take for you to realize that Mike is just a high school sweetheart. That-that you're not _stuck_ with him for the rest of your life." He stared at her, shaking his head. "At least I'm in love with Lori."

"Oh, is that why you go crawling back to her every time she treats you like shit?" she quipped with an equally derisive chuckle. "That's what it's called?"

Rick nodded at the insult, swallowing down his feelings and his yet-to-be-formed response, knowing that anything else he said would only fan the flames. And he hated that their once close friendship had devolved into trading barbs on a cold sidewalk because they were too scared and too altruistic to explore how they really felt about one another. Michonne was, anyway. And their anger was rooted in hurt, manifesting itself in ugly ways. "We should stop talking," he finally said, glancing toward the busy restaurant before gazing back at his friend. At least, he hoped he could still call her a friend.

"You're right," she quietly agreed with a sigh. She stared back at him, chuckling at how his nose had turned red in the cold.

"What?" he wondered, thinking her laugh sounding genuine this time.

She shook her head, not wanting him to know that she was looking at him that way. She couldn't afford to look at him that way. "I don't know what to say," she admitted, staring out to the park again to avoid his gaze. Perhaps because there was nothing to say. These feelings they'd developed for each other weren't part of anyone's plan. Bad timing just made it so there was nothing they could do about them without hurting people they also loved. On the one hand, being away from him made it easier - NYU made for a good distraction. But on the other, she would ostensibly always be friends with Lori and Rick, and she was terrified of what would happen if these feelings never went away.

"Come on," Rick gestured for her to start back inside ahead of him. "We'll get through this together."

* * *

_Present day._

"Taste this."

Rick gave Michonne's proffered spoon a brief glance, making a face at the strange gooey white substance. "What is it?"

"It's called a cherimoya," she answered, licking her left fingers of the delicacy. "You'll like it."

"I'm okay," he declined with a chuckle, continuing with his own dessert of mango and yogurt.

"Taste it," she insisted, still waving the spoon in his face, hoping to entice him. "Please."

"It just… doesn't look like something I would enjoy," he tried to diplomatically say. "But thank you."

She gave their tablemates a knowing look before focusing on Rick again. She wrapped a 'friendly' arm around his neck - more of a headlock, in fact - and smiled at him sweetly. "Rick," she sang his name for the second time that day. "Come on."

He also looked across the table to Morgan and Jenny as he swallowed down his mango. "Y'all see how she does me?"

"I mean, you kinda owe me," she reminded him, taking the bite for herself. She started to dig into the delicious fruit for a fresh spoonful for him.

"I owe you for what?"

"For crashing into me earlier."

He opened his mouth to protest, but he didn't exactly have a leg to stand on. And with Shane and Andrea joining the table, he didn't want to give her fuel to bring up the fact that he also almost dropped her while giving her a piggyback ride on the way to dinner. "I think the crash was both our faults," he said, "but I'll grant you that because I feel bad about it."

"Yeah, because it was your fault," she mumbled, bringing the spoon to his lips for the second time. "Just taste it."

Rick's disgusted expression returned, but it was clear she wasn't going to let it go until he gave it a try, so he hesitantly took the bite. He was pleasantly surprised to find the custard-like substance somehow tasted like a combination of a banana, pear, and pineapple with vanilla undertones. In a word, it was delicious. "Shit," he said, making the five of them laugh.

"Right?" Michonne beamed as she carved out another few spoonfuls, doing her best to remove the giant black seeds before sending half of the fruit across the table. "You guys try it."

"What's it called again?" Rick asked, watching with envy as Jenny and Andrea took their bites. He wanted it all to himself now.

"Cherimoya," she repeated for him. "You won't be able to get it in the States very often, but when you can find it, buy it."

"My god," Andrea groaned, her mouth full of the fruit. "That is fantastic."

"It's sweet," Jenny agreed, frowning as she tried to detect all the different notes. "Not overbearing, though."

"All right, pass it on back," Rick interjected, reaching across the small table to retrieve Michonne's plate. He also took her spoon, scooping out another helping for himself, leaving Michonne to use her fingers.

"He always does this," she commented, shaking her head as she watched Rick devour her fruit. "Did I not say, _'Taste_ it'?"

"I do believe that's exactly what you said," Morgan confirmed.

"Rick, you oughta know by now that Michonne doesn't play about her food," Shane commented, also watching him practically inhale the fruit.

"Oh, I know all too well how she feels about food," he chuckled, taking a break to allow Michonne a few more bites. "It's how I know that if you don't eat fast, you don't eat."

Michonne laughed with her mouth full and bumped Rick's shoulder with her own. "That is such a lie."

"Is it?" he asked with a squint, gazing at her as she licked her fingers again. "Did you want your spoon back?"

"No, I don't want my spoon back," she repeated him mockingly. By then, they'd just about finished off the fruit; she was simply collecting the remnants, not wanting to waste any of it. "Here," she offered Rick the last bit, straight from her hand, not even thinking twice about it - and neither did he, it seemed - until she felt his lips on her fingers, his tongue gently licking the sweet fruit from them. It sobered her quite quickly, and made her dizzy all in the same breath. Suddenly, she wished she had more wine. "I'm... gonna go get a refill," she said, slowly rising from their table as she picked up her glass and empty plate. "Anybody want?"

Four of them raised their hands, while Shane added, "Can we get a refill on that cherimoya, too?"

"I'll see what I can do," she grinned, feeling a particular pep to her step as she walked away.

Rick couldn't help but watch her, as he had been all day in that little red bikini. She'd thrown on a sheer white sarong once the sun went down, but it didn't change much about the enticing view. Once she disappeared inside, his gaze returned to the table, finding his friends and dinner companions staring back at him. "What?" he asked, smiling nervously as he popped another cube of mango into his mouth.

"What's up, Rick?" Andrea grinned, nodding her head in the direction Michonne had just gone.

Rick furrowed his brow at the question, pretending not to know what she meant. "What's up with what?"

Morgan immediately noticed his unease and attempted to massage the question a bit. "We don't mean to pry, man. But people have been wonderin' if there's somethin' we should... know about you and Michonne."

Rick did his best to play it cool, continuing to shake his head, playing stupid. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean the flirting and the piggyback rides and the eatin' food out of each other's hands," he described everything he'd observed that day alone.

"I mean… we're having fun," Rick shrugged, unsure what else to say about it. It was the truth, anyway. Even if there were a lot of latent and not-so-latent feelings attached to that. "That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

Shane took that opportunity to glance at Andrea, finding her unending interest in the subject amusing, if nothing else. But he knew Rick pretty damn well, and after also observing him with Michonne throughout the day, he thought his wife would be happy to know that she was probably right about the sparks that were flying between them. The thing was, they didn't even need the push from some outside force - it was already happening.


	7. Grace

 

_October 14, 2014_.

"Rick…"

The sound of Lori's faint voice stirred Rick from his light, uncomfortable sleep, his eyes blinking open to find his wife staring blankly into the distance. Her dry lips were parted, breathing tubes obstructing her pretty but gaunt face, while her chest heaved in her perpetual struggle to breathe. He quickly took to her side, gently running his fingers over her short hair as he studied her face under the harsh glare of fluorescent lighting. He did it all the time, he realized, searching for some sign that she was feeling better instead of worse. Desperate to find life behind her hazel eyes. The oncologists all warned them that IBC would be a rough road, but nothing they said could've properly prepared him to watch his wife die. Slowly, painfully, but surely, with each passing day.

"Rick," she repeated, weakly squeezing his hand when she felt it on her arm. "Baby..."

His expression fell even further as he internalized what her unfinished sentence was meant to say. "No," he returned, eventually settling on denial as his response.

"Listen to me." She tried to nod and perhaps quell his reaction, but she was so devoid of energy, she could barely keep her head turned. She felt the need to cry, but her tear ducts were empty, it seemed. Not because she was emotionless - quite the opposite, really - but because that was how little her body had left. "Rick, I know this isn't how you saw this going," she professed, stealing small gulps of air between words. "You thought… chemo would save me. And… you wished I would've fought harder…"

"No," he whispered again. "I just… I didn't." He swallowed hard, struggling to find the correct words… "I didn't want you to give up too quickly."

"I know. And I'm sorry," she exhaled sharply. "But I've fought… for a lot in my life. And it's how I know when it's over." She watched as his tears fell for them both, and she reached her hand to his face, attempting to wipe them but simply resting it there instead. His cheek was so warm against her cold fingers. His eyes were so blue. They looked like the Caribbean Sea. How many times had she drowned in them? "You're so beautiful," she quietly declared as a statement of fact.

Rick closed his eyes, basking in his wife's touch, his tears in a free fall. "Lori…"

She gazed at him intently, surveying him as if she could take the image with her when she left. She had memorized his face years ago, but she wanted to register all the changes since the last time she did this, back when they had Judith. There were new wrinkles and lines that came with all the laughing and crying they'd done over the years. The strands of gray that peppered his coffee brown curls. The three-day-old five o'clock shadow covering his chiseled cheeks on that particular evening. And not only did she stare, but she made it a point to listen extra hard whenever he spoke, wanting to believe she could save his voice, that syrupy southern twang, for later. But the truth was, none of this would matter once she died. It would all just stop. He would be the one that would have to go on without her. He was the one that would be trying to keep pieces of her.

_I'm on my knees_  
_Only memories are left for me to hold_  
_Don't know how, but I'll get by  
_ _Slowly pull myself together_

"Rick, I hope you know how much I loved you," Lori croaked, her thumb caressing his stubble. It was then that her tears finally surfaced, her body perhaps feeling the weight of these final moments. "You made my life what it was. I need you to know that."

"I do," he nodded, taking her hand into his; kissing her fingers. "I do."

"Thank you for being here," she nodded back, swallowing despite her dry throat. "And I don't just mean this," she appended, referring to her illness. Any husband worth his salt would see his wife through cancer, and Rick was worth much more than that. "Thank you for being a witness to my life. Thank you for endlessly standing beside me." Her quiet voice broke even more as she thought of their many mostly happy years together. "We had eighteen years, and they weren't perfect, but they were good." Lori tried to smile at him, but he only buried his face in her arm. She sniffled, feeling his hot tears on her skin. " _You_ were _good_."

Rick had been trying to ready himself for this moment for months now, and still, he felt blindsided. He felt as though she was being robbed. She deserved more time. _They_ deserved more time. Their kids… "I should call your dad," he nodded, attempting to sober himself. "Have him bring the kids down."

"No," she tried to shake her head, adamant that she didn't want this for them. "I've told them everything I can. But I know what it's like to watch my mother die, and I don't… I can't let them."

He nodded, recognizing then that Lori knew, when they left the house the prior morning, she wouldn't be coming back to it. She'd made it clear that she didn't want to die at home, wanting the house to remain a happy place for Carl and Judith, but he wished he'd known that the last time was the last time. He would've recorded more of her with them. Taken more pictures. Savored the moment. It was all happening so quickly.

_There's no escape, so keep me safe  
_ _This feels so unreal_

"Rick, you tell them," she begged him, demanding his gaze as her tone and timbre strengthened just a bit. "Tell them every day if you have to. But you make sure they always know that they were the best thing I ever did."

They were both sobbing so hard, they could barely see each other through the blur of tears. But it was about feeling, being close to one another in these final moments. Rick moved from his seat and carefully climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her as best he could. He wanted to hold on tightly, for all the times he wouldn't be able to after this, but his touch remained tender. He kissed the top of her head, his tears seeping into her hair, and he gently rocked her back and forth.

_Nothing comes easily  
Fill this empty space_

"Anguilla," Lori reminded him in a weak whisper, imagining the picturesque island she and Michonne had spoken of making their home for the last several years. "You promised you'd take me."

"I will."

She quietly groaned in pain as she repositioned her body so that she could see him. One more time. And she stared up at his lovely, heartbroken face, touching her fingers to his cheek. One more time. "Promise me you'll be happy after me, Rick."

Rick closed his eyes, a fresh set of tears falling, and he let out a shaky sigh. He didn't know how to make that promise. He couldn't even imagine waking up after her, much less finding some happy ending waiting on the other side of this. The kids would keep him happy. He knew that. But he also knew that wasn't what she meant. She wanted him to love again. "I'm gonna try," he promised instead. He didn't know how, but he could give her that much. "I will."

With that tiny peace of mind, Lori relaxed. She let her eyes fall closed, her body rested in Rick's strong embrace. The fight to breathe, the struggle to speak, the pain that had claimed nearly every part of her body, it all evaporated into nothingness. A slow fade to black. She was already on that island... "Goodnight, love."

_Nothing is like it seems  
Turn my grief to grace_

* * *

_Present day_.

Much to the delight of Rick and company, Christmas Eve turned out to be a beautiful day on the island - perfectly warm thanks to the beachy breeze, without a visible cloud in the sky, leaving the sun to shine on its own. Even a painting couldn't have captured a more perfect scene for Lori's memorial.

The gorgeous day began with the group gathering for breakfast on the beach just outside Michonne's place, where they scattered her ashes together, and basked in happy memories of their friend. By midday, with the sun high in the sky, the majority of the group had split into factions, mostly couples, stationed across the landscape, where they would leave a little bit more of her to soak up the island - Shane and Andrea had taken to Shoal Bay to spend their day; Morgan and Jenny went exploring the caves of Fountain Cavern National Park; while Carol and Daryl made a hike to Anguillita. Meanwhile, Rick had chartered a boat for himself and the kids to sail the waters of the Prickly Pear Cays - Judith's selection for one of her mother's final resting places. Mainly because she liked the name.

Nothing could've quite prepared Rick for the sight of his wife reduced to a pile of ash - five pounds of it, to be more precise. And not the powder soft ash so often depicted in movies when loved ones' remains are inevitably spilled. It was coarse and gritty, with bone fragments mixed in. Prior to that morning, he'd never ventured to actually look into her urn, despite all the time it sat on his bedroom mantle. But finally forced to face it as they divided Lori into six equal parts, each couple receiving their own thermos-like scattering urn, he was taken aback by the sight.

"You okay, Dad?" Carl asked cautiously as he approached his father. He'd been quiet all day, which wasn't a surprise - his dad always fell contemplative when his mother came up for too long. But they were in the middle of the water, on the cusp of quite literally letting her go, and he just wanted to be sure that his dad was still up for the task.

Rick smiled ruefully as he dragged his gaze from the gorgeous view to his beautiful boy, running his hand over his hair as he pulled him close. "I'm all right," he promised. "How 'bout you?"

"I'm okay," he nodded, smiling because he believed him. "Better than I thought I'd be."

Rick smirked in agreement as he gestured to Judith at the back of the small boat. "What's your sister up to?"

"She's 'examining' the sails," Carl both chuckled and rolled his eyes, glancing back at his curious little sister as she stared into the sky. "You'd think she's never been on a boat before."

"Let's be glad every experience is still an experience for her," Rick advised before calling for his daughter. "Judith!"

"I'm coming," she yelled back, running across the deck to meet them, clutching her ziplock bag full of flowers as she did. "Is it time yet?"

"It is time yet," he grinned as she drew closer. Her sandy curls were rather messy from the breeze, which he imagined Lori would've enjoyed. "Come here."

"Daddy, are you gonna cry again?" she asked in the innocent way that only a child could.

Rick chuckled, knowing that he wasn't one to hide his emotions, particularly when it came to their mother, and he appreciated that his daughter knew that about him. But this, he hoped, would be more sentimental than sad for their family. "Maybe a little," he allowed, sweeping Judith into his arms before planting a kiss on her temple. "You ready?"

"Uh huh," she nodded.

Together, the three of them made their way to the bow of the boat, ensuring they'd be upwind of any flying remains, and Carl untwisted the cap of the large metal tube containing his mom before looking to his dad expectantly.

"Go on," Rick encouraged him with a brief smile.

"Be careful!" Judith was quick to add before he could begin.

With a small laugh, Carl did as told, slowly and cautiously pouring the ashes into the air, the three of them watching as some of them flitted into the breeze, while some of the larger clusters dropped straight into the water. Carl's gaze turned sullen as he observed the clear water in front of them turn gray, his mother soaking it all up.

"You're up," Rick noted, lightly pinching Judith's arm.

"Oh." She was quick to unzip her plastic bag, picking out a handful of pink and yellow stemless flowers from the assortment she'd picked with Andre that morning. She gently threw them into the water so that they dotted the gray trail of ash, leaving a rather beautiful sight behind. "Look," she proudly pointed out to her brother.

Carl smiled at her excitement as he nodded, "It's beautiful, Jude."

Rick set Judith back on her feet in order to retrieve his phone, wanting to capture pictures of the moment for later, as he'd asked of everyone. He would print and frame them eventually, he figured - perhaps for that now-empty mantle back home. With the sun beaming down on them and the wonderfully vivid flowers decorating the water, it did look quite a bit like a painting.

"Should we switch now?" Carl asked, offering the half-full urn to his father.

"Yeah," Rick decided, taking the flowers from Judith instead. "Help your sister spread some," he directed, raising his phone once more. He'd spent much of the trip trying to capture the seconds Carl spent with Judith. Savor the moments, as it were. The endless picture-taking was more Lori's thing, back… before. But he was enjoying honoring that tradition, knowing that these moments would be few and far between once Carl went off to college.

After a few snapshots, he switched his phone to record mode, grinning at the sight of Carl picking up his little sister, holding her hand steady as she poured from the metal tube rather generously. The two of them smiling as the ashes sailed through the air, and Rick used his free hand to sprinkle in blue and pink petals, leaving a rainbow in their trail.

Judith began to wave as they floated away from the beautiful imagery, and she capped off the moment with that disarming five-year-old charm of hers, and two simple, poignant words: "Goodbye, Mommy."

* * *

_I feel the cold, loneliness unfold_  
_Like from another world_  
_Come what may, I won't fade away  
_ _But I know I might change_

As evening rolled around, the sun beginning to set, Rick and Michonne found themselves standing atop the breathtaking Crocus Hill - the highest point in Anguilla, two hundred feet up from the sea, offering sprawling views of the entire island. Michonne had chosen a secluded area as her resting place for Lori, knowing she would make it a point to come back to that spot often. And while she'd planned to spread her ashes alone, wanting that time solely for herself and her friend... so she thought. But when Rick offered to join her, she didn't hesitate to accept. Because she'd learned over the past twenty years, and the past week especially, everything was just a little bit better with him.

"Thank you for being here with me," she said out loud as she stared out to the horizon. She was clutching her urn with both hands, holding it against her chest.

"Of course," Rick replied. He stood a few feet behind her, wanting to give her the space to grieve. But he noticed that she didn't seem to be moving, and he wondered if he should say or do something more.

"I'm okay," she declared, his silence allowing her to read his worried mind. She wiped at the tears that were threatening to spill and turned back to him. "It's just… I dunno. This is it."

"She left a long time ago," Rick quietly reminded her. "This is just… another goodbye."

"I've never been good at those," she admitted, thinking of how she held on to most things for far too long. From instruction manuals to grudges to high school sweethearts. Her eyes flitted to the rocky ground, staring at all the cracks and crevices where her friend would soon rest. She thought of how her ashes were part of the water now; how the sea would take her all over the world. It made her smile to think some piece of Lori could be anywhere she went.

"What is it?" Rick asked, noticing her small grin this time.

Michonne only shook her head, stirred from her musings, and finally removed the cap from the urn. She briefly closed her eyes as a calm wind passed and then began her mission, pouring a bit of the remains at her feet. She continued around the edges of the cliff, listening to the sound of the grains hitting the ground and the waves crashing below. The sun seemed to be racing from the sky, but she took her time, making sure that her friend became part of that hill.

_Nothing comes easily  
Fill this empty space_

Rick watched Michonne like she was a movie. The way the setting sun reflected off of her skin, giving her an orange glow. The breeze blowing through her thick locs and her coral-colored dress. She looked like the sunset personified. And she was so graceful in even the simplest of tasks - dusting ash from her fingers or wiping her tears. There was melancholy in all of her movements. He wanted to hug her, but the moment didn't seem appropriate for it.

After a while, Michonne turned back to Rick, offering him the urn - the final remnants of Lori. "I think you should," she gently urged him.

He was hesitant to intrude on her moment, but he also didn't want to decline the offer to scatter the last of his wife's ashes. As much as he enjoyed and probably needed that time with his children, he'd forgotten to take some for himself. Michonne was giving him that chance. And so, he gratefully accepted the canister and stepped to the edge of the bluff beside his friend. He turned the urn on its side and lightly shook, letting the contents fly into the breeze. The two of them watched as the soft ash drifted away until it disappeared into the darkness. And Rick let his eyes fall closed, imagining the ghost of his brilliant wife enjoying her time there. Blissfully floating in the sea, relaxing on the beach, sailing through the air. The things he'd been doing all week long, he was finally getting to share them with her. They'd made it to Anguilla as promised.

As the breeze kissed his cheek and he heard Michonne sniffle, his eyes fluttered open and a tear slipped out unexpectedly. But he nodded, feeling like he'd gotten exactly what he needed from this. He wiped his face and took a long, deep breath before whispering, "Goodnight, love."

_Nothing is like it was  
_ _Turn my grief to grace_

Michonne gave her friend a sidelong glance, smiling despite all her tears, because she could see the calm in him. The closure that came with laying his wife to rest was written all over his face. He was sad, she assumed, but he seemed to be... at peace.

Noticing her gaze, Rick nodded again and took her hand into his, assuring her that he was all right. "We should head on home," he said in a raspy whisper.

She nodded back, accepting his hand and going one step further, interlocking their long fingers as they started the fairly long walk back to the bed and breakfast. It was a quiet, almost silent walk, their footsteps the only conversation, but it wasn't a solemn one. It was serene. The two of them enjoying the ambience of darkness settling over the island, navigating the streets side-by-side, hand-in-hand.

By the time they arrived back home, as Rick called it, it seemed that everyone else had retired for the night. Understandably so, after the emotional drain that came with a day like this. It was only then, standing in the courtyard of the resort, facing the option to say their good nights, that Rick and Michonne separated; but just barely, as there seemed to be an unspoken understanding that they didn't want to leave one another. Not for the night, at least. Maybe not ever. And it had nothing to do with sex, because they didn't need to see each other naked to experience intimacy. It was about being close, finally, after years of forcing themselves not to be.

_Nothing comes easily  
_ _Where do I begin?_

And with that, as well as the knowledge that their children were safely tucked away with their friends - their family, really - Rick followed Michonne back to her villa. They entered her quiet, pristine home, where the ocean breeze gently blew through her open balcony doors, and they continued up to her bedroom, where the all-white decor felt like a version of heaven.

They kicked off their sandals, attempting to shed all the other emotions of the day along with them, and with nervous, somber smiles, climbed into bed together. On top of the bedspread, but undeniably cozy as Rick spooned Michonne, resting his arm across her waist, inhaling her almond-scented hair as he closed his eyes. He could feel himself falling…

_I just wanna feel your embrace_

"Rick?" Michonne whispered his name, not wanting to wake him if he'd already found slumber. His soft steady breaths had nearly lulled her there herself.

"Yeah?" he answered, his eyes still closed, his thumb gently, absently caressing her stomach.

She grinned to herself upon hearing his voice, as if to confirm for her skeptical mind that this was real. This wasn't some dream she would soon wake up from. He was there. She rested her hand over his, his warm skin another affirmation. "Do you feel free?" she asked him.

Rick replied with the tiniest of smiles, remembering when he'd asked her that same question not even a week ago as they spoke of her impending divorce. Recalling that when he left for the airport six days ago, he was afraid of this very concept. The thought of letting go of his wife, no longer being anchored to anything - anyone - was terrifying. Now, it felt like a gift. "I do," he whispered.

Michonne nodded gently against her pillow, happy for him; quietly wondering what it might mean for them and the remainder of their time together. "Good..."

* * *

_October 12, 2014_.

"You want anything?" Michonne asked, although obviously distracted from any potential response as she scanned the menu unfolded in her hands. She knew the answer, but tended to ask anyway, mostly out of habit.

"Just some wonton soup," Lori quietly returned, reaching for her nightstand to grab the baby monitor. "You know what you want?"

"Yep." She set down the menu between them and accepted the monitor that they'd been using as a walkie-talkie to communicate with the rest of the house. "Rick, we're ready," she announced, glancing at Lori as she awaited a response.

It took longer than usual, but an answer eventually came in the form of Carl on the other side. "He's already on his way up."

"Thank you," Michonne returned sweetly. She offered a smile to her friend as she passed back the transmitter and then resettled into her pillows with a sigh. They still had another hour and a half before The Good Wife, and they'd exhausted everything else on the DVR. "What do you wanna watch until nine?"

"Isn't it time for Real Housewives?"

"Still another half hour."

"Well shit." Lori let out a disappointed sigh and slightly shook her head. "We don't have to watch anything then..."

"I could honestly use a nap," Michonne agreed, settling on a rerun of Boardwalk Empire before muting the TV. "I don't know why I'm so tired."

"Well, laying in bed with me all weekend is hard work," Lori grinned weakly. She rested her face against her friend's shoulder, finding comfort in being close to her. "Thank you, by the way," she added, both of them quietly chuckling.

"Stop thanking me," she gently scolded her. "I'm right where I'm supposed to be." There was a knock at the door, quickly followed by Rick's appearance in the threshold, toting bottled water and an iPad, like the dutiful servant he'd been all weekend. "Just the man I wanted to see," Michonne greeted him with a long yawn. "We're ready to order."

"Just what I came for," he returned, passing her the tablet so that she could type it up, including her endless list of overly specific requests. "How are you feeling?" he directed to his wife.

"Like I'm dying," she quipped with a small cough. "Other than that…"

Michonne chuckled, but out of the corner of her eye, caught Rick's pained expression and thought it best to try for a subject change. "Has the game started yet?"

"Not yet," he cocked his head, glancing at the screen mounted in their bedroom. "...Tryin' to get back before it does."

"I think that was a hint for you to hurry up," Lori commented, listening to Michonne's fingers hurriedly tap at the screen. "I'm just getting soup," she told Rick.

"I figured as much," he nodded, his voice quiet. He was trying not to react, knowing she couldn't help her lack of appetite, but every time he looked at her, the thinness struck him hard. "I bought some ice cream this mornin' if you're interested."

"Cherry Garcia?" Michonne hoped, her face lighting up as she handed back their order.

"Of course."

She watched him read through her list, knowing he was judging her for it, and not caring. "Don't forget my duck sauce this time, please and thanks."

Rick only shook his head, chuckling as he headed back for the door. "I'll leave you ladies to it."

"Thank you, baby," Lori sent after him. She waited until she heard his footsteps trot down the staircase before she commenced conversation with her friend. "He's so uptight," she noted with a small exhale. Her illness had taken its toll on him, as to be expected, but it was so difficult to watch him - or rather, pieces of his personality - die with her.

Michonne quietly snickered in response, knowing it was true, but also understanding why. "He's worried."

"I know," she granted. "He's good that way."

"He is…"

"He also needs to get laid," she declared casually, smiling to herself when Michonne giggled animatedly. "And I feel terrible because I know he needs to, but I can't…" She shook her head again, "I can't do it."

Michonne was laughing so hard the whole bed was moving. "Jesus, Lori…"

"I'm serious," she insisted. "The last time we tried, I thought I was gonna break my hip. And it's just so dry down there." Their laughter turned into full on cackles as she recalled the awkward moment. "He's so patient. God love him. But I've been googling escorts just to see if I can find someone his type."

"Lori," Michonne shrieked amusedly. If it'd been anyone else, she would've known they were joking, but Lori was more than likely serious, which made it both funny and terrifying. "Do not buy a prostitute for your husband."

"Well he needs something!"

"Give him a handjob!" she continued to laugh. "And I know it's not the same," she added before the protest could begin, "but that's gotta be better than the alternative."

"Barely," she mumbled with another sigh. A contented one as she mindlessly stared at Michonne's hand clutching the TV remote. Her elegant fingers and the giant diamond adorning the ring. She'd always admired her hands - along with just about everything else about her best friend. So gorgeous, inside and out. "Do you remember when we first met?" she decided to ask, ignoring how random it sounded out loud.

Michonne let out a soft chuckle, recalling their first meeting, the first day of freshman orientation. Fate, or perhaps just some old computer at UGA, assigned them to one another as roommates, changing their lives forever. "I do," she nearly whispered. "That tiny dorm room..."

Lori smiled too, closing her eyes as she pictured 17-year-old Michonne Diarra. "You showed up with all those damn books and the Louis Vuitton luggage, and I just _knew_ we were never gonna be friends. At most, I hoped I didn't hate you."

"Yeah, I didn't quite see it for us either," she admitted with a giggle. "I remember my mom went searching the dorm to try and find me a Black roommate."

"Well I'm glad she didn't," Lori coughed, her tone turning serious. "Because I couldn't have been more wrong. Not only did you make the _best_ best friend, but you became the great love of my life." She tilted her head upward to try and see Michonne's face, catching part of it, at least. "Through school, and all my shit with Rick, to losing my mom, and trying to learn to be a mother, the one constant was you, Michonne. You were my everything."

"Lori…" Michonne was stunned into silence, unsure what to say. "I love you, too."

"I know," she nodded against her. "And you love the kids. And even Rick. Which is why I'm asking you to keep an eye on them."

"You know you don't even have to ask."

"I have to," she insisted. "I have to make sure that someone I loved will be there for them. Someone that'll push Rick to find someone. After an appropriate amount of grieving time," she was sure to add. "Don't let him embarrass me."

Michonne smiled, appreciating that her sense of humor hadn't wavered through any of this. "You're better than me," she joked, "because I'd be looking for ways to frame him for my death so he could never be with anyone else."

"Goddamn it," Lori sighed dramatically. "Why didn't you give me this idea sooner? I could've given it a try."

"I wasn't thinking," she conceded. "So I guess the alternative is that Rick finds someone else eventually."

"Yeah… I guess I'd rather that than Carl and Judith having to visit their dad in jail for a murder he didn't commit."

"Sounds like 'The Flash'," Michonne smirked.

"Well my kids are superheroes," Lori returned, beaming brightly as she thought of them. Judith with those beautiful big eyes that questioned every little thing. And Carl, her bright baby boy, who'd handled his life being turned upside down with a grace that no thirteen-year-old should have to have. "Promise me you'll always be in their lives," she asked, taking hold of her friend's hand.

"I promise." Michonne whispered, squeezing it back. "Always."

"And promise me you'll learn to your hair down again." Even as they spoke, Michonne's long locs were tied in a bun at the top of her head. "You don't have to be the responsible one all the time," she said. "Make a mistake. Have an affair. Quit your job. Jump off a cliff. Do something that makes you and only you happy," Lori implored her. "You deserve that from the world."

"I'm not gonna have an affair," she chuckled, but nodded at the sage advice. "But I get where you're coming from."

"Remember when we made the pact to have thirty orgasms in a month?" Lori suddenly recalled with a smile in her voice.

"Oh god." Michonne laughed again as she covered her face with her free hand. "I remember not having any in the first week and then giving up."

"Give it another try." She gazed up at her seriously. "When Mike gets home, just… enjoy the hell out of that man."

Michonne closed her eyes and squeezed Lori's hand again. She was rather certain that wouldn't be happening with Mike - not anytime soon, at least - but it was a nice thought. It was nice to believe that her marriage was salvageable. "I will."

"I'm gonna be watching," Lori reminded her, still grinning. "Not in a creepy way, but... I'll know."

"There's no way to say you'll be watching someone without it sounding creepy, Lori."

"That's true," she acknowledged. But instead of reconsidering, she leaned into it, breaking out into song to express herself. " _Every breath you take. Every move you make…_ "

Michonne stared up at the ceiling as she laughed at her friend for the umpteenth time in their short conversation. Her unfailingly hilarious, compassionate, overbearing, witty, loving best friend. Knowing that she was trying to say goodbye; that their time together was coming to an end. It was like a breakup where both people know it's over, but neither wants to say the words. Michonne felt sick to her stomach, but at the same time, relief for her friend. That this year of fighting for her life would soon be over. This illness that had ravaged her body, though not her soul, would win, but on the bright side, if she could find one, the pain would end, too. So Michonne laughed, but she also cried, a tear slipping from her eye and rolling into her ear as she came to understand that this was the last time they would ever be together.

_I love you_  
_I love you  
_ _I love you…_

* * *

Lyrics: "Grace" - Kate Havnevik (You)


	8. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

As the clock rounded past the 8 o'clock hour, the risen sun streaming through a set of ornamental sheer curtains, Michonne's eyes fluttered open, her mind and her sight slowly coming into focus. Her surroundings were familiar, but she felt strange and out of place in her own bed, she realized. Knowing Rick had been there all night; that they'd slept together in the literal sense of the term. She could recall waking up a couple of times throughout, halfway expecting him to be gone, and instead realizing that his quasi-erection was pressed against her. It was nice to be that close to someone again. It was a feeling she'd forced herself to forget – she hadn't really had it since Lori died – but she welcomed it now.

It took a few seconds for her to process the fact that she was in an empty bed now, Rick's arm no longer draped lovingly across her waist, the warmth of his soft breath gone from her shoulder. She wasn't sure why it took her so long to register that she was alone – still caught in the moment, perhaps. But she didn't mind it. On this occasion, waking up alone didn't feel lonely. Quite the opposite, really, as she noticed the sheet of paper folded on her nightstand with Rick's lovely handwriting staring back at her. She'd always enjoyed his almost dainty penmanship, remembering the first time he'd written her a note way back when – something about being late for a study session. When he finally showed up, she made sure to tell him how much she liked his writing. Since then, she would always smile when she'd receive a card or invitation from the Grimes family and could tell that he addressed it. That morning was no different, her smile as wide as her face as she read the note.

_**Michonne,** _

_**I didn't mean to leave before we could speak, like some asshole one night stand. But I made unbreakable plans and I didn't want to wake you - I'm sorry. But I'll make it up to you. Until then, I've got the kids. Enjoy some alone time. We'll be back soon.** _

_**Merry Christmas  
** _ _**Rick** _

"Shit, it is Christmas," she realized out loud as she laid the note back on her nightstand. She quietly laughed to herself, wondering what kind of 'plans' he could be referring to. She wouldn't have been surprised if Andre and Judith had concocted some weird, adorable scheme and pulled him into it.

Even more than that, she was struck by the endearing about the tone of his note – the sweetness in its simplicity. It was thoughtful. And she loved the warmth imbued in his speaking of 'the kids' like they were all one family unit. 'We'll be back soon.' As though this was his home as much as it was hers. It felt right, and she wasn't sure that it should. In fact, she wasn't sure that any of her feelings about the situation were appropriate. When they planned this vacation, she'd simply hoped that this time away from Atlanta would be healing for Rick; that he'd get some closure, have some fun, and go back home, ready to restart his life. And in the process, she would get to enjoy the hell out of her closest friends for a couple of weeks.

But somewhere along the line, she'd started to feel things. And it happened so quickly. One night of talking to Rick again, and all the feelings she'd forced herself to let go of – or so she thought – had come rushing back. And she didn't know what to do with that. Even though it was obviously mutual, was it okay to be in love with her dead best friend's husband? And what kind of relationship would they ever have with him in Atlanta and her in Anguilla? She had more questions than answers about their situation, and still, none of that stopped her from smiling whenever she thought about him.

She was just about ready to get out of bed, her thoughts circling the idea of a nice, relaxing bath while she waited for Rick and the kids. But before she could move, she heard the front door open and close, quickly followed by Rick's muffled voice presumably instructing the kids up the stairs. The pitter-patter of little feet kept the grin on her face as she sat up, resting against her headboard as she waited for them to appear.

Within seconds, there was a knock on the door that she recognized as Andre's, followed by giggling, confirming that Judith was with him. "Come in," Michonne chuckled, knowing they were likely up to something.

The two of them came bursting into the room with smiles that rivaled the sun in brightness, and they shouted in near-unison, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" She opened her arms wide, gesturing for them to come meet her with hugs. "Hi, Peanut," she greeted her son with a series of loud, sloppy kisses. "I missed you!"

He smiled coolly as he escaped her embrace. "It was only a few hours, Mommy. And we got to make cookies at Aunt Carol's."

She laughed a that tidbit, inwardly hoping that Carol managed to make some an adult batch for the Christmas occasion. She would have to remember to text her later. "Well I'm glad you had fun," she grinned, gently pinching his little cheeks. She watched, slightly confused, as Judith went around the bed to climb in beside her, going so far as to nestle beneath the white bedspread and cover her feet. Michonne stared at her, amused by her gall, as well as her cute purple pajamas. "Hey, Chickpea."

"Hi," Judith waved back, adorably oblivious to the fact that Michonne was wondering what the hell she was doing there.

Before she could ask, though, more footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Carl appeared, toting the small food tray she typically used for Andre when he was bedridden. Rick followed shortly after, another larger try in his hands, and more notably, a Santa hat perched on top of his head. She grinned widely at the sight of him – mostly out of habit at this point, but also because with his lovely graying beard, he very much resembled Father Christmas. And it seemed that he had come bearing gifts. "What is this?" she asked, despite already knowing the answer.

"We stole your job for a morning," Rick replied with a smile; one that lingered on her sweetly as he situated the tray over Michonne's lap. "Merry Christmas."

She stared at the elaborate setup consisting of guava juice and coffee, a fruit salad comprised of papaya and mango, cherries and starfruit, pineapple and banana, and on her main plate, fried breadfruit, eggs, French toast, and bacon. It was a lot, even for her fairly high standards. "Merry Christmas," she whispered, gazing back up at Rick, her eyes expressing her appreciation.

"It was Carl's idea," he nodded, gesturing to where his son was setting up the smaller tray in front of Judith. "He thought it would be nice if we all made breakfast for our girls."

"I made the fruit salad," Carl added proudly. "Shane made the eggs, Daryl made the bacon, Morgan did the breadfruit, and Dad did the French toast."

"I grinded the coffee beans!" Andre inserted from beside Rick.

"Under my supervision," Rick assured her, stroking the top of Andre's head the way he often did with Judith. "It was a group effort."

"I see that," she grinned over to Judith, who was already chowing down on her banana slices. "This is so sweet," she appended, still in a bit of disbelief. "Thank you, guys."

"You're more than welcome," Carl answered for them. "We just hoped you wouldn't mind Judith joining you. She insisted."

"Of course I don't mind," Michonne continued to smile. In fact, she rather enjoyed being afforded a god-mother-daughter moment with her. They were too far and few between. She took that opportunity to dig into her own salad, plopping a cherry into her mouth as she examined the tray again. It all looked so good. "Have you guys eaten?" she wondered. "You want some?"

"We're fine," Rick assured her, chuckling at her unwavering insistence on taking care of everyone else. All the time. "We wanted you to have a few hours where you just think about you."

Still beaming, she simply nodded, understanding that her only worry for the moment was to enjoy her breakfast. "Okay," she relented. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_ ," he sent back with another nod, affectionately patting her bare foot before turning out for the door, Andre and Carl following behind.

"We'll be downstairs," Carl informed them. "Just let us know when you're done."

"Will do." Michonne watched the boys disappear down the hall and then gazed at her plate for the third time, quietly laughing at the fact that she'd woken up to room service in her own hotel. How sweet it was to have someone take care of her for a change.

"What's funny, Auntie?" Judith wondered with a mouthful of her bacon.

"I don't know," she replied, shaking her head. Truthfully, she was thinking of how much she was enjoying all of this. Maybe too much. "I'm just happy."

"Oh." She grinned up at her godmother, also relishing the special moment. She imagined this was what it must've felt like to have a mommy. And she liked it. "Me, too."

* * *

By the time noon rolled around, Michonne's living room was decorated with wrapping paper scraps and emptied boxes from the bevy of gifts the kids had received for Christmas. And Rick and Michonne watched on, both proud and grateful that they had the means to spoil their kids a bit for the occasion. Judith was in one corner, giggling to herself as she created her own movie using her new animation kit; Andre in another, completely enamored with a manual and his new tools, learning how to build a computer; and Carl had taken up the couch opposite the adults, off in his own world as he got acquainted with his new VR headset. The room was quiet, but busy, just the way parents tended to like it.

"This is good," Rick declared, taking care to keep his voice quiet, so as not to disturb any of the kids from their tasks.

Michonne nodded as she took a sip of her coffee, settling further into the couch as she gazed around the messy room. The Joneses had gifted everyone a set of onesie pajamas for Christmas, and she was happy to put hers to good use as she sat around doing absolutely nothing. "It is," she agreed.

"I know we're not supposed to let them get too attached to technology, but when it keeps them busy like this…"

"I know. You usually get worried when they're this quiet. But this," she gestured to the room, "is perfect. It's actually the best Christmas I could've asked for."

That put an instant smile on his face, happy to hear that she was happy. It was her first Christmas away from home, which he knew could evoke some strange feelings, especially given what was happening with Mike, but she genuinely seemed to be enjoying her day. "You ready for your gift?" he asked, nodding toward the tree, where just a couple more wrapped presents were waiting.

Michonne quirked a suspicious eyebrow at him, questioning what he could've gotten her that was making him smile that way. He almost seemed excited. In the past, their gifts to each other tended to be pretty generic - some memento from a vacation that went to every couple, or some personalized household item that was never particularly personal. Now that they were no longer part of couples, she was intrigued to see what he'd thought to get for just her. "Okay…"

"Jesus, don't sound so excited," he chuckled, picking himself up from the couch.

She watched, amused, as he did his bowlegged strut through the mess and retrieved the boxy present she'd been wondering about, given the lack of name tag. The smirk on his face as he walked it back to her only piqued her interest more. The shape of it made her think it was perhaps a book, maybe some self-help shit he'd discovered over the past year. But she got the feeling it was something sillier than that. "What did you do?" she simpered back, accepting the neatly wrapped gift.

"It's nothin' really," he shrugged, noting her dubious smile. "Just somethin' I thought would make you laugh."

"Well don't ruin the mystery." She waited for him to reclaim his seat before beginning to carefully strip the festive paper. Her smile soon evolved into a fit of giggles as she slowly revealed the gift's cover image of Kate Winslet being enveloped by Leonardo DiCaprio with 'Titanic' imprinted along its side. "Seriously?" she nearly shrieked.

Rick blushed, relieved that she both recognized what it meant and seemed to like it. "It came up on Amazon after I watched The Revenant, and it was like… a sign."

"I mean, this is the _original_ two-tape VHS version," she said, still staring at her present in awe. "You really took it all the way back."

Hearing the commotion between the adults in the room – or mostly Michonne – Carl put his game to the side and made his way over to their couch to see what all the fuss was about. His face scrunched with confusion as he observed the twenty-year-old movie and its even more antiquated format. "Is this is an inside joke?"

"It is," Rick assured him, playfully rolling his eyes at his son's judgmental tone.

"Is it something you can explain? Or is it gross?" he frowned.

"It's not gross," Michonne chuckled, briefly trading the movie for her coffee mug. "Why... would you even think that?"

"I dunno, most inside jokes end up being dirty."

Michonne only shook her head and gave Rick a look meant to say, _That's your son_. "Sit down," she instructed him. "I'll tell you all about how your dad wasn't shit during our junior year."

Rick's mouth opened to protest, but he only ended up laughing instead, because he had no solid defense. "That's how we're describing this?"

"Mommy," Andre cut in from across the room, "you said a bad word."

She let out a sigh that doubled as a laugh, amused by how attentive he was. Here she thought he was too preoccupied to pay any attention to them. "It's a bad word for you, Peanut. Not me."

"Why?" he shot back.

"Just… because."

Rick took the opportunity to give her sarcastic glance right back: _That's_ your _son_. "That's not a good answer," he whispered.

"Because it's a word for adults to use, baby."

"Okay…"

Michonne chuckled again, knowing from his tone that he had already checked out of the conversation. "What were we talking about?"

"You were gonna tell me why my dad isn't shit," Carl reminded her. He received stern looks from his father and Michonne, leading him to raise his hands in surrender. "I was just repeating what Michonne said."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," she grinned, pointing to him accusatorily. "I'll be forty in February and I still don't curse in front of my parents."

"Really?" he frowned again. He had friends that cursed in front of their parents now, so that notion sounded foreign to him. "They'd say something about it?"

"I'm not entirely sure my mother wouldn't knock me across the room."

The three of them laughed, although only Carl thought she was joking. Rick was well-versed in Dr. and Mrs. Diarra's very traditional ways – to put it mildly. "I remember when I told your dad he could call me Rick instead of Richard. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that one," she giggled, recalling the night of her engagement party. "He was just extremely baffled about you having the audacity to tell him something in _his_ home."

"Trust me, I figured that out really quickly."

"So… does that have something to do with the movie?" Carl interjected, still trying to discern the hidden meaning behind the Christmas gift before they could go off on some tangent. "Is it like a thing about how you were poor and she was rich, so you were like Jack and Rose?"

"No," Michonne laughed heartily. "It's not that deep I assure you."

"And I wasn't poor," Rick added, shaking his head at Carl's deduction. "We weren't rich, but we were fine."

"Grandma says you were poor."

Michonne snorted at his response, but she also knew that older people had a way of playing up their hard times when they needed to. Her parents did it, too. "So the movie," she proclaimed, seeing the need for the subject change. She positioned so that her legs were propped beneath her and she was comfortably facing Rick and Carl. She gave the older Grimes a quick but knowing glance before beginning the short story. "So this had to be, what, twenty years ago?"

"Technically nineteen," Rick nodded, smiling, already knowing that she was going to make this story sound worse than its reality.

"So it's this same time of year, right around Christmas, and all of us had gone back home for the winter break. And before we left school, your dad and I made explicit plans to go see _Titanic_ the day it came out-."

"They were not _explicit_ ," Rick cut in to point out. "We just said we were gonna go."

Michonne stared at Rick blankly for several seconds, but opted not to respond to him, continuing with her tale instead. "So that Friday comes and I was so excited. I'd seen the trailer a million times, and everyone was talking about this movie and how big it was gonna be. So that morning, I was up early and looking up movie times at Phipps… because I had to see it at the fancy theater."

"Wait, it was just the two of you?" Carl wondered, both confused and intrigued that they had plans that didn't seem to include his mother. "Was this a date?"

"It wasn't a date," Michonne was quick to clarify. "Your mom and dad were on one of their 'breaks' at the time," she added with an obligatory eye roll, "but I was with Mike."

"He was gone, though," Rick submitted, "so we kept each other company quite a bit that semester..."

Michonne's blank stare turned to an intentional gaze as she recalled how they probably spent an inordinate amount of time together junior year. The first half of it, at least. She held back a smile as images came to mind of that one night where things went a little too far. She had to shake them away just to resume her story. "We also lived fairly close in Atlanta," she went on, "so it seemed like a simple trip to the movies wasn't a lot to ask."

Carl chuckled, already hearing the indignation creeping into Michonne's voice. "I hear a 'but' coming..."

" _But_ we never made it to the movies. Did we, Rick?"

Rick hung his head in shame, scratching at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb as he tried to fish his brain for an excuse. "No… not quite."

"Why not?" Carl asked.

"Because your dad," Michonne answered before Rick could even try, "supposedly my friend, called me at fucking 6:30," she added from behind her gritted pearly whites, "as in thirty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up, and said he couldn't go."

Carl's eyes widened in disbelief and he stared at the side of his dad's face. "Dude."

"I know," he conceded with a nod. "It was shitty."

"Why would you do that?"

"I mean, it's a little more complicated than Michonne is making it sound," he said, eyeing his friend, assuming he probably shouldn't elaborate on that. "But I did. I stood you up."

"I was so ready," she commented sadly to Carl. "I had to go with my mom on Sunday, and she talked and asked questions the entire. three. hours."

"That sucks," Carl sighed at his father. "Like, was it some kind of emergency?"

"The point is," Rick interjected, purposely ignoring the question, "this is my twenty-year-late apology. And I was hopin' we could watch it today."

"Yeah, because there are lots of VCRs laying around, Dad."

Admittedly, Michonne had been wondering what she was supposed to do with a VHS in 2016, but she also didn't care about that aspect. She was appreciative of the gesture and the fact that he remembered that part of their history. It was a small token but it evoked so many memories - some bad, but mostly good, about the start of their relationship. Back to where it all began. And almost ended, for that matter. All the feelings and then the lack thereof that led them to this place. "You be quiet," she told Carl, happy to trade his sarcasm for Rick's sweet gesture. "It's surely on Netflix or somewhere on the internet."

"Luckily, I'm not so old that I don't know how technology works," he told Michonne, even though he was responding to his son. "The tapes are a keepsake. I already bought it and queued it up on Amazon Video."

She tried to contain her smile, but it was hard to pretend she wasn't impressed by his forethought. "I told you your dad had game," she smirked at Carl.

Rick raised an eyebrow at her statement, wondering what conversation he'd missed that led her to that conclusion. The fact that she'd obviously defended him only interested him more. "Is that right?"

"Not a lot," she was quick to retort, careful not to give him any big ideas about himself. "But you're thoughtful, and that goes a long way."

Carl couldn't help but note the looks being passed between Michonne and his dad, and while he wasn't sure whether he was reading them correctly, it made him happy to see them getting along so well. His dad seemed uncharacteristically happy there. And maybe it was just because he was on vacation and didn't have anything to particularly worry about, but he wanted more of this for him. "Dad, I asked Michonne the other day why you guys never got together back in college, and she basically ran away from me," he revealed with an impish smile. "So did you ever think about it?"

"Well," Rick chuckled nervously, knowing this could head into awkward territory. "It might interest you to know that I actually met Michonne before I met your mother."

"It was all of two weeks before," Michonne intervened to add.

"Still before," he maintained. "And I tried desperately to get her to go out with me that entire time. But she already had a boyfriend, so…" Rick shrugged, allowing that to be the end of the story.

Carl glanced at Michonne, confused by her cageyness on the subject in that case. "You could've just said that a week ago."

"Yes, I suppose I could've gone with that very simple version of events," she chuckled, her eyes staying on Rick as she smiled amusedly. She actually liked that their borderline-dirty, not-so-little secret had mostly stayed between the two of them throughout the years. Sitting there clutching her gift, she was reminded of just how much she'd held in for so long. "Okay, so," she declared, knocking the thoughts away before she could be consumed by them, "junk food and movies for the rest of the day?"

"Really?" Carl lit up. "We don't have to get dressed up for some fancy Christmas dinner with everyone?"

"I don't know what anyone else is doing, but I'll be here on my couch, in my pajamas all day."

Rick grinned, loving the sound of that - just the five of them, enjoying a leisurely, low key day. He was used to busier holidays, Lori always wanting to see the people she loved on Christmas Day. Which either meant a lot of traveling or hosting some elaborate party for everyone they knew. But this was how Michonne liked to enjoy the holiday, and it felt like being welcomed into her immediate family. "That sounds good to me."

* * *

"God, Cal is the worst." Michonne rolled her eyes as she watched Rose's fiancé profess his sexist points of view, but she quickly realized that she was talking to herself. The room was silent aside from some light snoring coming from beside her - Carl's, to be exact, stretched out between herself and his father. Of course Rick was no better, curled up at the end of the sofa, his mouth hanging open, obviously knocked out. The little ones had fallen asleep before the movie even started. And after fairly large doses of pizza, cookies, and ice cream for dinner, she'd been expecting as much. Carl and Rick, however, were going to hear about this.

With a sigh, she picked herself up from the sofa and went to her hallway closet to retrieve blankets for them. They probably didn't need anything - they looked pretty damn comfortable as is, but she had a habit thanks to Andre. She settled on her giant UGA blanket, big enough for both of them, and tiptoed back into the living room to cover them. As annoyed as she was, she couldn't help but smile as she tucked them in for the night. She gently ran her fingers through Rick's curls as she gazed at Carl, looking uncannily like his mother.

Michonne lowered the TV volume and took her happy thoughts outside where they wouldn't disturb anyone if they became too loud. She leaned against the parapet, contentedly gazing out into the darkness, listening to the sound of the sea. She thought about how her first Christmas on the island had been a good one, and in fact, the entire year had been good to her, much to her surprise. She had never been one to take chances, never rocking the boat, as she preferred smooth sailing over unknown adventures. But quitting her job and moving to this little Caribbean sanctuary was probably the best thing she'd ever done for herself. Maybe even the only thing. Her life was full of decisions she'd made for other people, and if this year had taught her anything, it was that living for herself was an option. And she needed to do more of it.

After a few blissful minutes with her thoughts, she detected movement behind her, figuring one of the kids had probably stirred for a bathroom break. But the gentle footsteps told her otherwise, and she turned, pleasantly surprised to see Rick coming outside to join her. She smiled to herself as he closed the balcony door behind him and remained silent as he joined her, not caring why he was out there; simply glad to have his company.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he declared, casually propping himself against the railing next to her. "But I forgot how boring the first half of that movie is."

She laughed lightly, amused at his unwarranted contempt for this film, even if she didn't agree. "You're gonna stop talking shit about my movie," she said, feigning a serious tone. "Especially when you're supposed to be making up for standing me up:"

"I mean, it's not like I just didn't show up," he continued to insist. "I called you, at least."

"Thirty minutes before!" she hissed back, careful not to wake the kids despite the closed door. "You didn't even give me a good reason."

"Being sick is a perfectly good reason."

"A reason that sounded a lot like bullshit," she quipped, both of them chuckling.

Rick nodded as he stared back at the ocean, thinking about how much had changed since then. "Honestly," he started to admit, "I canceled because I was mad at you." He glanced over to her, waiting for her expression to change, but it didn't. "I wanted you to be disappointed like I was."

She smiled thoughtfully at his confession, having figured as much, but it was nice to hear him say it out loud... even two decades later. "Why?" she prodded him.

He replied with a smirk and a raised eyebrow to match. "You know why…"

It was Michonne's turn to nod, gazing into the distance as she contemplated whether to ask her next question. They hadn't talked about that time of their lives in years, but it seemed that with all the surfacing feelings as of late, the conversation was probably inevitable. "Do you ever still think about that night?"

"On your couch?" He watched her nod again before shaking his head. "I forced myself to let it go a long time ago," he said. "Most of it just… slipped away," he gestured his hand waving through the air. "I don't even remember why… what prompted us to start kissing in the first place."

She let out a small exhale as she also tried to recall, unable to pinpoint it herself. "I don't either." She smiled again as she looked to Rick - his lips, more specifically. "I just remember it being a good kiss."

"I remember that, too." He shifted on his feet as he allowed his mind to flood with memories of what her lips felt like...

"I was so jealous when you and Lori got back together," she remembered with a quiet laugh. "Every time you came over, I would just go sit in my room and seethe. And try to distract myself from knowing you two were having sex."

"Well at least you didn't have to hear us," Rick retorted, chuckling, too. "You and Mike…" He could so vividly remember _hating_ to be at their apartment when her boyfriend was there. "There were a few times where I just thought, 'Jesus, what is he doing to her?'"

Michonne giggled loudly, then quickly sobered herself as she swatted his arm. But she couldn't deny that Mike knew how to put it down. "Before I even knew what good sex was, we had it," she shrugged.

He gave her a long glance, his eyes inadvertently falling down her cleavage before quickly refocusing on her face. So many things coming to mind…

"What?" she asked, feeling her face grow warm under his stare.

"No, I just… that explains a lot."

"You mean why I was so hung up on him for so long?" she smirked back.

Rick shrugged, not wanting to put it into exactly those words, but… "Yeah."

"It was more than that," she assured him, ruefully grinning at the side of his face. "He was my safe place. Although maybe more of a security blanket now that I think about it. But he made me feel, I dunno, comfortable. Especially after you... knocked me off my feet. I needed a soft place to land, and he was it."

"Mmm." He nodded thoughtfully as he stared down at his ringless hand gripping the railing. Remembering how the last time he was single, he kissed Michonne and completely upended their friendship. And still, he couldn't stop thinking about how he just wanted to do it again. "I didn't mean to," he whispered, staring at her earnestly. "I just… I was drawn to you from the day you sat down in front of me in that Statistics class," he recalled. She was the one to knock him off his feet first. "I wanted to know you. Then we became friends, and those feelings just… I dunno. They got away from me."

Michonne smiled at his recollection of the past, still feeling flattered by the crush he had on her. "You don't have to apologize," she shook her head. "The choices we made… they led us here."

"You never wondered what it would've been like if you'd made different ones?"

"Of course I did," she scoffed quietly. "Sometimes I still wonder, would we have been happily married for twenty years?" She shook her head, yet to come up with a definitive answer. "Maybe," she granted. "Or maybe the rift it caused between me and Lori would've put a strain on our relationship."

"You probably wouldn't have gone to New York," he acknowledged with a small smile. "And then you might've never had your own law firm. Which means we wouldn't be here right now."

"No Andre. No Carl or Judith…"

"We probably wouldn't even have our friends. They would've ditched us for being terrible people."

Michonne smirked at their attempts to vindicate their decisions, but then cocked her head to the side the more she thought about Rick's last statement. "I'm not sure Shane has room to talk about anyone being terrible."

They laughed for several beats, letting the sound linger in the air until silence came to claim it. Rick stared at the side of Michonne's face as the cool evening breeze whipped through her hair, her locs swaying like wind chimes. Her expression was a captivating mixture of playful and wistful, making him smile. "I think you made the right choice for both of us," he said in a near whisper. He rested a quiet hand over hers, waiting for her to look at him. She did so reluctantly at first, her nervous eyes conveying her butterflies - likely the same ones he was feeling, and it all felt like deja vu. He'd been here before. And he didn't know why he was getting another chance, but he had every intention of taking it.

Michonne took a deep breath when she realized that he was thinking about kissing her. She could feel his pulse in his fingers, or perhaps it was her own, because she desperately wanted him to do it. Even if she had no idea what came after; even if the very thought of the unknown tended to scare the shit out of her, in that moment, she was aching to pick up where they'd left off all those years ago. Taking his hand into hers, she faced him, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she gazed at him. She noticed the way his eyes were fixated on her mouth and her stomach practically dropped to her feet. This was happening.

The world seemed to go silent as he inched forward and tenderly caressed her face, her soft skin feeling like silk against his fingertips. He brushed her hair back and leaned in, tilting his head just so, for the perfect angle, his eyes falling closed as he gently pressed his lips to hers. Immediately, they both melted into the kiss, their bodies relaxing as they intoxicated themselves on one another's soft lips. Rick cupped the back of her head while she touched her fingers to his face, the feeling of his soft beard adding another sensation to all the others she was experiencing. Her other hand made its way into his hair, her fingers coiling in his long curls as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, making Rick smile as he reciprocated. She tasted of the mint chocolate ice cream they'd had with dinner, another something to bring him back to their first kiss.

The moment quickly turned from sweet to steamy as Rick's hands snaked their way down Michonne's body, wrapping around her tiny waist to pull her closer. They were positively immersed in each other, their lips and tongues locked, her soft chest pressed against his hard one so that their hearts were beating against one another. They couldn't breathe, yet neither of them were interested in coming up for air. Rick quietly moaned, his body reacting to the close contact while his mind began to wander, imagining peeling her red jumpsuit from her perfect body. Michonne felt him immediately, and her mind went running too, picturing herself dropping to her knees to suck him dry - her own special Christmas gift to him. It'd been a while, after all.

She was rather ready to make her fantasy a reality, her fingers finding the waistband of his sweats before she could talk herself out of it. She tentatively pulled back, not even bothering to catch her breath before whispering, "We should take this upstairs." She phrased it as both a question and a statement, but she doubted he could even hear her over the sound of her heartbeat.

Rick nodded as he wiped at his tingling lips, noticing her erect nipples through the fabric of her pajamas and he quickly averted his stare. He was suddenly timid, thinking about how they'd been waiting twenty years for this and had accepted that it wasn't going to happen. But now, here they were. He was at a loss for words. Because there weren't any that expressed how she made him feel. "Yeah," he eventually returned in a throaty whisper.

Before she could respond, there was a light knock on the balcony door, causing them to separate as if they'd been caught in an act. From the silhouette behind the curtain, she could tell it was Carl, and so, she looked at Rick. "Why is he like this?" she whispered, annoyed before she could find out what he wanted.

"I don't have any proof that he's actually my son," he joked, shaking his head with a sigh. "What do you want?" he called back, refusing to open the door before necessary.

"Michonne has a visitor," he replied, his tone conveying that he was just as irritated as they obviously were.

"What?" She frowned to herself, questioning who would be 'visiting' at 8:00pm on Christmas night. Everyone had agreed to keep to themselves for the day. "If Daryl is here for towels or some shit, I swear to god," she commented to Rick as she moved to open the door. But as she stepped back into her villa, she immediately wished it had been one of their friends looking for some small need fulfilled. Instead, she found herself standing face to face with her soon-to-be ex-husband, Mike. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Apparently. "Fuck," she mumbled to herself.


	9. Are You Happy Now?

Rick blinked several times as he stepped into the room behind Michonne, feeling as though he was looking at a ghost as Mike Boykin stood mere feet away, his hands stuffed in his pockets, luggage at his feet. Or at least, he _wanted_ it to be a hallucination. He hoped that he was just so drunk on Michonne that he was imagining him standing there. Because it was just too hard to believe that Mike had chosen to show up at that moment. The exact wrong moment. At the very second he and Michonne were finally moving out of the friend zone they'd forced themselves into so many years ago. What kind of bad luck would allow Mike to show up _now_? No, Rick needed this to not be real.

"Hey," Mike greeted the two of them quietly when it seemed that no one was going to speak. He took a tentative step forward so that an entire room wasn't between them, but stopped himself when he noticed Rick move too, pointedly taking position beside Michonne. "Hey, Rick," he appended, baffled by his confrontational stance. Last time he checked, they were friends.

"Hey..." he returned skeptically, looking to Michonne to gauge her reaction. If looks could kill, Mike would be headed into cardiac arrest shortly. But her silence only added another layer of confusion to it all. "Everything okay...?" Rick directed to anyone who would answer.

"What are you doing here?" Michonne finally spoke, her voice eerily low and measured.

"I've obviously interrupted something," he granted, deferring to Michonne's increasingly annoyed expression. Aside from what he'd witnessed through the balcony window, he'd observed the sleeping kids, everyone walking around barefoot and in pajamas; he knew he was intruding. Even if this was his own family. "I'm sorry," he added, nodding. "But I wanted to see my son... and I was hoping you and I could talk."

Michonne bristled at the request, uninterested in anything he could possibly have to say after fucking up her night. Showing up unannounced was one thing, but to do so at the very moment she and Rick were about to seal a twenty-year deal? She wanted to fight him. "About what?" she demanded.

Mike raised an eyebrow at Rick and Carl's presence, hesitant to say anything more in front of them. "Somewhere privately, perhaps?"

If the kids hadn't been present, she would've urged him to speak right there, because she had nothing to hide from Rick. But just because her night was ruined didn't mean theirs should be, too. With a sigh, she turned to her friend, briefly taking his hand as she gazed at him apologetically. "Don't leave," she asked in a whisper.

Biting his bottom lip, pleasantly surprised by the small display of affection, he nodded. He glanced up at Mike, noting his attention was obviously on the two of them, and then he looked back to Michonne. "We had a good day," he quietly reminded her, seeing how drastically her mood had deflated in just a few minutes. "This doesn't change that."

She replied with a small, sarcastic smile, understanding what he was saying, even if she disagreed. "I'll be back soon," she promised.

"Take your time," he nodded, reluctantly letting her go. He kept his eyes on Mike as she led him out of the villa, presumably taking him to the courtyard where they couldn't be heard. Once they were gone, his gaze darted across the room to where Andre and Judith were sleeping, still undisturbed, fortunately, but he could feel his son's stare practically boring a hole into him, probably itching to discuss what had just occurred. Mike's arrival aside, he and Michonne were just making out on her balcony, and he was certain Carl had seen them. "Say what you wanna say," Rick quietly sighed, knowing there was no escaping the awkward conversation.

His eyes wide with unending confusion, Carl moved to face his father, taking a seat against the arm of the nearest couch. So much had happened in the span of five minutes, he wasn't entirely sure where to begin. "So are you guys… together now?" he asked carefully.

"No," Rick answered emphatically, though he couldn't help but chuckle to himself. "We're very much just friends."

"If it's a secret, you can tell me," he pressed. He was learning that parents had a way of being cagey when it suited them. "I won't tell anyone."

"We're not together, Carl."

He crossed his arms over his chest, his suspicion written all over his young face. "So you're gonna tell me you kiss all your friends like that?"

"It was the first time we've kissed i—" He had to abruptly stop himself before he revealed too much. "It was our first kiss, and it was interrupted. So… that's all I know right now."

Carl nodded, feeling bad for his dad in that case. It was the last thing he expected to see when the knock at the door woke him from his unintended slumber. In fact, at first, he thought that he was seeing things in his haze; conflating the movie with reality somehow. But when they were still making out as Mike followed him inside, he knew it was real. And the last thing he wanted to do was disturb them. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You didn't do anything," Rick smiled ruefully. "Don't worry about it."

He nodded again, appreciating his father's composed response, despite the clenched jaw that accompanied it. "Do you think Mike's gonna be mad?" Carl went on to ask.

"I don't know," Rick admitted quietly as he scratched at his eyebrow. "But I also don't really care. They're separated, so Michonne can finally do whatever she wants."

He didn't miss his dad's use of the word 'finally', implying that this concept wasn't as new as he perhaps wanted it to seem. But he decided not to comment on it given his dad was already agitated by the current circumstances. "Well I think she wants you," he offered with a shy grin. It was an attempt to cheer him up, but also the obvious truth as far as he was concerned. "I wouldn't worry about Mike if I were you."

Rick chuckled at his son's insistence on being involved in just about everything – he'd been that way since he was a baby. But unfortunately, he'd been in this position before and had the misfortune of knowing how it could end. "If I were you, I'd mind my business," he teased him. His eyes instinctively went back to the floor, making sure their children were still blissfully asleep. And he thought back to the perfect day they'd had, how they'd slipped into the intimacy of a family without really even noticing. Michonne had been happy that day, he could tell, and he desperately wanted to believe that they could simply pick up where they left off when she returned. He nodded to Carl, noticing his son's curious stare still on him. "But let's hope you're right."

* * *

Meanwhile, Michonne had taken Mike down to the main kitchen, where she hoped they wouldn't be seen or heard by any of her friends. It was instinctual, really, since that was where they tended to argue when they lived together. Back when they bothered to, at least. She didn't care to have a long conversation with him now, more concerned with getting back to Rick and the kids than anything he had to say. But she figured this was the quickest, easiest way to get it over with.

"Carl is so damn big now," Mike commented as he followed his wife into the brightly-lit space. "I didn't know who that was answering your door."

Michonne rolled her eyes, knowing he hadn't seen Rick's kids in actual years now. "Yeah, kids have a way of growing," she commented coolly. She gestured for him to take a seat at the table while she continued to her wine fridge to grab an opened bottle of Riesling for herself. "Speak."

Mike chuckled as she stamped around the room, slamming cabinets with a quietness that only she could pull off. Making sure he knew she was angry without telling everyone else within earshot. "So you and Rick, huh?" he started to question, unable to shake the image he'd gotten of the two of them. "How long's that been goin' on?"

She let out a deep, calming sigh as she pulled down a glass for herself and ignored his inquiry. "Why are you here, Michael?"

"' _Michael_ ,'" he repeated her with a nervous chuckle, observing her serious tone. "All right." He cleared his throat and turned in his chair to look at her, despite her back to him. Seeing her figure in that form-fitting onesie, he could certainly see why Rick was all over her... "Well I came to see Andre," he eventually told her. "I wanted to surprise him for Christmas, give him a few gifts, get a chance to see everybody—"

"And as usual, you're a day late and a dollar short," Michonne interrupted, turning to face him with a full glass in hand.

"Yeah, my connecting flight from Puerto Rico was late," he revealed regretfully. "If I could've been here sooner, I would've."

"But nobody even invited you in the first place," she said flatly. "Why would you think – I mean... _did_ you even think? That I'd have any interest in seeing you? After you blindsided me with divorce papers and petitioned for full custody of my child?" She could feel herself literally shaking with anger, her general frustration with him compounded by the fact that he'd fucked up her day, not to mention, what she hoped would be a good night. She took a moment to swallow down a big gulp of wine, needing it to mellow her. "I don't want you here."

"I shouldn't have done that," he admitted, gazing at her contritely. "I shouldn't have. I knew it when I did it. Even my lawyer told me to rethink it, but I was angry at you, and I insisted."

She stared at him, waiting for him to go on; waiting for an apology and then a promise to retract the petition, perhaps. But when he didn't, she decided to speak the words hanging off of her tongue. "You always do this shit," she muttered, shaking her head as she set her glass down.

"I always do what, exactly?"

"You show up unannounced and unwelcome," she spat back. "You're forever only concerned about your feelings and what you want. You steamroll over everyone else just to get your way. You knew this was my vacation time, my first time seeing _my_ friends in a year. And I asked you – I _begged_ you to just wait until January. It's a fucking week away!" she shouted, but immediately pulled back, though her lips continued to quiver as she spoke. "You've been down here exactly once in a whole year, but you couldn't wait a week so that I could just enjoy this time with my friends. You couldn't let me be happy for just that long." She ran a hand over her exhausted face as her mind went wandering back to her couch nineteen years ago. How the first thing that came out of her mouth when she told Rick to stop was Mike's name. "You just destroy everything," she whispered, mostly to herself as she held back her tears.

"Michonne, I didn't know it was like that," he contended. "I thought it would be a nice surprise. Shit, it's barely eight o'clock. I didn't think everybody'd be knocked out... I sure as hell didn't expect to find you and Rick all on each other like that."

"Yeah, well I was about to fuck him too until you showed up," she quipped, taking another long sip of her wine. She wanted to make that clear since he was so damn hung up on it.

Mike's eyebrows raised in surprise at her brazenness. "Yeah, that's a good look," he declared sarcastically. "Fucking your deceased friend's husband while you're still married."

"Well you weren't doing it, so…"

He let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the conversation going awry. Her flippant answers weren't getting them anywhere. "So the fact that I was gone because of work…" He shook his head in disbelief. "Me working my ass off to support y'all means nothing to you."

"Andre needs a good father," she replied sincerely, the derision gone from her voice. "Not a good doctor. And I certainly never needed financial support, so… I don't know what to tell you," she sighed again. "I feel like a broken record. And I don't have time to stand here and have the same argument we've been having for three years now. Either say something new, or you can go. I can bring Andre to see you in the morning."

He opened his mouth to speak on his hopes for their divorce proceedings, but he stopped when he realized she was effectively kicking him out. "Go?" he frowned at her instruction. "I can't stay here?"

"I've got six more people arriving in about twelve hours, so no. I'm full."

"Michonne…"

"This is why you should call before you show up at your ex's door."

Mike visibly inhaled at her reference to herself as his ex – something he'd yet to get used to after their two decades together. "So you're really saying I can't stay with you?"

She stared back at him blankly for several beats, the wine already doing its job of slowing her reaction time. But if her unamused expression didn't answer his question, she said it out loud for him: "No, Mike, you can't."

"I can sleep on the couch," he suggested. "I won't interrupt your little slumber party."

"You keep being facetious if you want to," she smiled mockingly. "This is about you not being welcome in my home. I don't want any confusion for Andre about this being a _visit_. As in temporary."

"So it's confusing for me to be at your place, but the white man hanging around tryin' to fuck his mama is cool."

" _Rick_ has been there for Andre and for me more consistently than you ever have."

"Yeah, I bet he has," he mumbled.

Michonne turned to the counter again, no less frustrated or agitated than she had been when she walked in, and closed up her wine bottle. She was done. "I suggest you start googling some places," she advised, her voice back to that low and steady timbre. "Most places are already at capacity through the New Year, but maybe you'll get lucky." She sauntered off toward the sink, leaving her glass beside it since she had no intention of staying there with him long enough to wash it. "You should call me first if you need anything else."

"'Chonne," Mike called out before she could take off, instinctively grabbing her hand as she passed in a desperate attempt to stop her.

She looked down at his grip on her wrist, but instead of fighting it, she let her hand go limp and waited for him to speak.

"I didn't come here for this," he quietly acknowledged. "All the sarcastic shit and the low blows and all that… I don't want it to be like this."

She nodded, her eyes briefly closing as his familiar touch brought her back to happier times for just a moment – specifically, ten years ago, when they went ice skating at Rockefeller Center on Christmas night. It was their first Christmas as a married couple, and they literally wouldn't let each other go. She also thought it a shame that their 23 years together had devolved into this. But it wasn't her fault that he enjoyed being a doctor more than he did his family. "Then you shouldn't have made it like this," she whispered, taking her hand back.

* * *

_**November 2003**_.

"Michonne," Rick called out, casually raising his hand to relay his whereabouts when she turned in his direction.

Michonne smiled nervously when she spotted her friend at the restaurant's crowded bar, Lori noticeably missing in action, it seemed, which wasn't exactly part of the plan they'd made. But she waved nonetheless and approached him, setting her purse in the open beside him for a proper greeting. "Hey," she said, taking note as he stood from his chair. He was dressed in a blazer and dress shirt, which she was unused to seeing on him outside of special occasions, and smartly matched with a pair of expensive-looking jeans. She wasn't entirely sure this man was actually Rick Grimes.

"Hey," he grinned back, wrapping her in a brief and somewhat tense hug. "Lori's stuck in traffic," he submitted, figuring she was unaware – Lori hated talking while driving. "Still in Alpharetta on 400, so…"

"Yikes," she replied knowingly. Traffic in Atlanta was bad enough on a good day, but it turned into a veritable nightmare on Friday evening in that part of town. "Mike is on his way, too," she said, noticing that Rick was already nursing a beer. "Should we sit here and wait for them?"

He nodded as he grabbed his beer, realizing that they were going to be sitting there alone in that case. He couldn't even remember the last time he and Michonne had any significant one-on-one time. "We can take one of those," he offered, gesturing to the small high-top tables across from the actual bar. "Less noisy."

Michonne actually preferred the bar chatter, knowing they'd need it to fill the inevitable awkward silences between them. But she agreed, collecting her purse before heading to the table closest to the entrance.

Rick distractedly watched her strut across the small space in a pair of fully red pumps, down to the sole, that complemented her tight jeans and black blazer. Michonne always looked like a million bucks as far as he was concerned, but she had an added air of sophistication now. Something she'd picked up in New York, he guessed. He smiled at her awkwardly as he took his seat across from her, feeling like he was sitting with a supermodel. It was strange to think that they were supposedly close friends. "Well…" He chuckled, inwardly wishing Lori or Mike could magically appear, "Fuck traffic, and welcome back to Atlanta."

"Yeah, no kidding," she smirked.

"Although," he reconsidered, scanning the area for a bartender, "I guess New York has its own traffic problems."

"It did," she granted, "but I mostly took MTA, so it was different from this."

"What time did you get in?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"My flight arrived around eight this morning?" she nodded. "I had just enough time to unpack and then my dad took me to lunch. So I'm still trying to... readjust." She effortlessly waved over a bartender and ordered herself a Seven and Seven before looking back to Rick. It had been a while – too long, really. He looked like a stranger to her. His hair was short, his thick curls cropped atop his head, somehow making him look older and younger at the same time. "So how are you?" she decided to ask, making sure not to stare. "How's my godson?"

"He's good," Rick confirmed, immediately smiling at the thought of their two-year-old. He pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping it open to show her the wallpaper he had set: Carl smiling wide for the camera, with an adult-sized Yankees cap from Michonne practically swallowing his head.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked at the unbearable cuteness of his chubby cheeks and a mouth full of baby teeth. "He's getting so big."

"It's insane," he agreed, watching her study the small screen. "I feel like he's gonna be… fifteen before I know it."

"I still can't even believe you two have a kid." She shook her head as she handed his phone back, her eyes darting up at him as their fingers briefly touched. "Is it surreal?"

"A little less so at this point," he shrugged, stuffing the phone back into his pocket. "For the first year, we were just sort of like, 'Jesus… that's a _baby_.' But I think we're good now."

"You're experts, huh," she grinned.

"I mean he's still alive."

She chuckled as she accepted her drink, hoping the alcohol would help wash down some of her nerves. She was typically so good at preparing herself for any situation, but she never anticipated that this double date would leave her alone with Rick. Her first day back in the city, and here they were.

"So… here's to you," Rick declared, interrupting her thoughts as he held up his refilled glass. "Congratulations, sweetheart."

"Oh god," she smiled shyly, his impromptu toast catching her off guard. She appreciatively clinked her glass against his, acknowledging his proud smile. "Thank you."

"Don't be modest." He took a quick sip of his beer before going on to say, "Passing the bar is a big fuckin' deal."

"People do it every day.

"People don't do it every day, too," he shot back. "You know Andrea has to take it again."

Her eyes dropped about as low as his voice had, scanning the table as if it contained an appropriate response as she set her drink back down. "I didn't know that."

"Oh. Well. Yeah, maybe don't bring that up tonight unless she does."

She shook her head in agreement, having already told herself as much. In fact, she was actually quite all right with not talking about her new job at all for the rest of the night. Her parents had already exhausted the subject, and she didn't have much excitement left at that point. She just wanted to have some fun with her friends. "I promise I won't."

He nodded back quietly and began to stare down his drink as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. The awkwardness of the moment wasn't lost on him. The fact that what used to be easy conversation for them was now stilted. He knew it, but he wasn't sure how to fix it. It'd been so easy to ignore the elephant in the room when their significant others were beside them. Now, it was just them, and that elephant was suffocating them. "I know it can't be like it was," Rick decided to say, tired of being unable to breathe around her. "I think that's probably even a good thing. But... I'd like it if we could be close again."

Michonne looked at him pointedly, her keen brown stare consuming his words. She looked like she was ready to cross examine him. "Close?" she repeated him.

"I mean, we don't have to best friends, but there was a time where we could be alone together without walking on eggshells around each other."

She smiled sympathetically at him, not entirely sure of how to reply to that. Because she wasn't sure that she could ever be carefree around him again. That comfort between them is why they went off the rails on the first place. She needed the eggshells. She couldn't afford to be close to him. "I'd like that," she nodded, "but… I don't know if it's a good idea."

"Michonne, I miss you," he practically whispered, his earnest gaze begging her to believe him. To agree with him. "I miss you even when I'm with you."

"Rick…"

"I miss my friend," he appended, seeing her growing uncomfortable. It was the last thing he wanted, to make this worse, to make her uneasy around him; but he'd regret it forever, on top of all the other regrets he had, if he didn't say this. "I mean, you're the godmother of my son and we can barely look each other in the eye."

She smiled in spite of herself and took another drink. The alcohol didn't seem to be working fast enough. "Well now that I'm home… I dunno… maybe it gets better on its own."

Rick only let out a sigh, taking a few gulps of beer to swallow back his thoughts.

"What?" she asked, immediately picking up on the fact that he had more to say.

"I mean, if you're not interested in fixing this, then we don't have to."

"No, it's not that," she returned. "I just don't… I don't wanna force anything."

He nodded back, trying not to take her seeming lack of interest personally. Her eyes, so expressive they seemed to be speaking for themselves, told a different story, but he knew he couldn't force it either. "Well. If you don't mind, I'm gonna pass the time by gettin' another drink."

"You gonna drink me away?" she smirked back at him.

"Already tried that..."

She involuntarily frowned in reply, but quickly recovered, choosing to believe that he was joking. "I like your haircut," she asserted, practically dying for a subject change by then.

He smiled. "I like yours."

She self-consciously ran her fingers through her chin-length kinky curls. "Thank you," she replied, her tone conveying her surprise at the compliment. In her experience, men tended to have strange, backhanded comments about her natural hairstyle. "You look like you've finally gained a little weight," she acknowledged with an amused grin.

He looked down at the table, nodding shyly. "I know it's not a 'guy' thing to admit, but we don't necessarily like to hear that we've gotten fat, you know."

"I meant it in a good way," she giggled at him. "Some people say it's a sign of being happy in your marriage."

"Mmm," he answered noncommittally as he took a drink. "That, or a few too many beers."

"Okay," she grinned. "You don't have to admit it to me." She nodded as she swirled her glass, watching the contents circle. "I can see it in your eyes."

"And what is 'it' exactly?" he smirked.

"That you're happy."

"Oh, all right." He chuckled, unable to tell whether she was just fucking with him for the sake of it. She was the one who seemed to be on top of the world. "And what should I glean from all… this," he wondered, gesturing in her direction.

She sat back in her chair with a wide smile, her eyebrow raised as she feigned offense and confusion; all of it bordering on flirtatious. "And what is that supposed to mean, Grimes?"

He stopped to smile too, because he couldn't remember the last time she called him by his last name. A sign of her comfort level creeping back up, he hoped. "I mean, you look… incredible," he stated carefully. "Is that supposed to mean you're not happy?"

"I'm actually really happy," she grinned, her stare staying on him. "And not just because I'm tipsy now."

He gazed back at her, believing it. Understanding that whatever torch she'd carried for him three years ago had all but gone out. "So," he said, eyeing her as he finished his beer, "your little theory doesn't hold true, does it?"

"Well it's not _my_ theory," she reminded him. "I'm also not married."

"You're in a long-term relationship…"

"Listen, I don't make the rules," she shrugged playfully. "You're happy and you know it."

He made it a point to immediately clap his hands as a response, causing Michonne to burst into laughter, and the smile he was trying to suppress turned into his own fit of chuckles. It was impossible not to laugh with her.

"Hey," she nodded to him, forcing herself to sober up. She was practically beaming as she envisioned a future where she and Rick could be friends again. Maybe not quite what they were, but something like it. "I've missed you, too, Rick."

He felt his face flush, his heart skipping beats as he tried to think of a witty but heartfelt reply. Something about absence and the heart and all that. But before he could open his mouth – thereby concealing the giant, telling smile on his face – the moment was snatched away. Mike had arrived.

"Hey, you two," he greeted the duo with his bright, immaculate grin, his eyes settling on his girlfriend as he stood in front of them. "Sorry I'm late, babe."

Michonne instantly stood from the table to meet him with a kiss. "Not a problem," she assured him with a casual shrug. "We were just catching up, figuring out how to get things back to normal."

Mike nodded as he claimed the seat beside her. He knew she had some regrets about how far she'd drifted from some of their friends while she was away. "So is everything all good?" he hoped, noticing her mostly empty glass. "Y'all were smiling like old friends over here."

She briefly looked to Rick, her eyes smiling at him before her lips could, and then to Mike, studying his handsome face before answering, "I think we're gonna be okay."

* * *

"I don't wanna stop the party for too long," Mike proclaimed from the DJ booth, staring out at a crowded club full of friends and strangers alike. He had a mic in one hand and a drink in the other as he looked lovingly to his girlfriend, shyly standing beside him, likely wondering what the hell he was about to say. "I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge this woman right here," he said. "She's been in New York for the past four years, three of them working her ass off in law school, and she just passed the bar like a fuckin' boss, and had a job already waiting for her the second she did," he grinned as the room applauded. "So I wanted to tell you, and I guess, all of these people, just how proud I am of you, baby. You are… brilliant, you're beautiful, and it's my joy to stand beside you through all this. We met when we were fifteen," he divulged to everyone else. "And it's been crazy watching her grow into this... phenomenal woman," he gestured to her before planting a kiss on her cheek. He held up his glass, inciting most of the crowd to do the same. "So this is my long-winded way of saying, 'Welcome home. And I love you.'"

"I love you, too," she whispered, unable to contain the grin on her face, moved by the simple, sweet gesture. "Thank you."

"Y'all raise your glasses," he declared to their applauding audience. "To Michonne A. Diarra, _Esquire_."

With a resigned sigh, Rick took his drink as he watched the happy couple from the Very Important Person table their friends were sharing. It was the third time that day, in fact, that they kissed like no one was watching, which clearly told him that he shouldn't have been. But he was experiencing a strange intersection of emotions – a bit of jealousy on the one hand, wishing he could be the person beside her, publicly extolling her many achievements. But the other hand, he just enjoyed seeing her so obviously content, even if it was with Mike. Still, he was relieved when the music recommenced and the lovebirds left their platform and disappeared into the crowd.

"That was sweet," Lori grinned to the group as she polished off her margarita. Luckily, she was too inebriated to be mad at Mike for excluding her from the toast.

Jenny nodded in agreement with a mouth full of liquor that she was slow to swallow. "For a minute there, I thought he was gonna propose."

"He wanted to," Lori revealed loudly over the bumping music. "But I told him he should hold off, maybe do it for Christmas. But I didn't think he should use tonight, when it's supposed to be about her, and then go and make it about them."

"That was smart," Andrea submitted from across the table. "I _hate_ when men do shit like that."

"You hate when men do anything," Shane interjected, rolling his eyes, "so that ain't sayin' a whole lot."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a man hater," she returned mockingly. "Excuse me for pointing out that you all do shitty things sometimes."

"She dyes her hair black and turns into Christina Aguilera all of a sudden."

"Y'know, I wish y'all would just fuck and get it over with," Daryl declared as he stood from the table, annoyed. "I'm gettin' real sick of this dynamic, and I know I ain't the only one."

Lori did her best not to laugh at his outburst, truthful as it might have been, and focused on her husband instead, who hadn't said much of anything since they sat down. Or all evening, for that matter. If she didn't know any better, she would've assumed he was upset about something. "Hey," she called out to him, resting her hand over his. When he looked back at her emptily, she became concerned. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, reluctant to explore the real answer to her question, even if only in his mind. "I'm all right," he said, distractedly surveying the large room, people of all shapes, colors, and sizes enjoying the lively mood, punctuated by the upbeat music of one of Atlanta's own. It didn't take long for him to spot Michonne a few hundred feet away, seemingly off in her own delighted world as she shook it like a polaroid picture. She was the embodiment of the song, which had him mesmerized for perhaps a second too long. But he forced himself out of it, unable and unwilling to go down that same path he'd been on six years ago. "I should probably give my mom a call to check on Carl," he noted to Lori, searching for a reason to escape.

"Rick," she sighed, chuckling at his rigidity. "Is that why you've been acting so strange all day?"

He shrugged, not wanting to lie. "It's not like we've had a lot of time away from him."

"We haven't had any," she reminded him. "Which is why you should be enjoying this."

"I just wanna check on him," he said. "I'm actually surprised you're not the one with your phone to your ear every other hour."

"Honestly, so am I," she smirked. "That's how much I needed a night off."

He nodded, knowing that she spent just about every waking moment with their two-year-old. She did deserve a break. "You're right," he relented with another sharp exhale. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Well your mother is senile, so he may not be. But we can't dwell on what we don't know right now."

"My mother is not—" He shook his head and smiled, forcing himself not to take offense to a joke that was meant to lighten him up. "Very funny."

"Ooh, come dance with me," she asked, already hopping up from her seat as the tune switched. "I love this song."

Rick begrudgingly obliged his wife's request, literally dragging his feet as he followed her to the dance floor, where a bevy of beautiful people were gyrating and grinding to Beyonce's latest hit. Lori led him right to the area where Michonne was dancing with Mike, and their friend Tyreese was surrounded by three different women. He instantly turned self-conscious about whatever white-people-sway he and Lori were about to do, but he'd had enough alcohol to release any inhibitions just as quickly as they'd come to him. He simply mimicked the other guys on the floor, subtly rocking to the beat while Lori did most of the work.

Soon, though, his eyes landed back on Michonne – or more accurately, her hips, as they seemed to move independent from the rest of her body. He watched her effortlessly grind against her boyfriend, her eyes closed, probably imagining herself on some Caribbean island that matched the music. _Picture us dancing real close in a dark, dark corner of a basement party. Every time I close my eyes it's like everyone left but you and me._ When she opened them, she looked straight at him, as if she knew he was staring. Or maybe, by some small chance, she'd been thinking of him too, for a moment at least. And when their eyes locked, her sultry stare didn't let him go. She even smiled as she began to mouth the words of the song – whether it was _to_ him or _at_ him, he wasn't sure. He didn't care. He was happy to get lost in the moment. Because moments like this were all they had, and he was okay with that. _In our own little world, the music is the sun; the dance floor is the sea. Feels like true paradise to me._

* * *

_**Present day.** _

It was nearly an hour later when Michonne returned to her villa, surprised to find that her place was silent and dim, only the glow from the muted television lighting up the room. She quietly walked in a bit farther, realizing that Rick was on the couch with Andre asleep in his lap, Carl and Judith seemingly gone, which only served as another reminder of her good day gone bad. Mike had gone, for the night at least, but the sour taste still remained in her mouth. Even as her hard expression automatically softened at the sight of Rick with her son. Their vacation had been full of little moments like this, where he treated Andre as one of his own. But Mike had poisoned that well too, forcing her to see her mistakes instead of the blessing in having a man like Rick around. She sighed as she moved toward them, forcing it all out of her mind for the time being. She just wanted to go to bed.

Rick stirred upon hearing Michonne's light footsteps, his eyes fluttering open to see her walking toward him. She looked visibly perturbed, to put it lightly, which made him hesitant to say anything. He didn't want to upset her any more than Mike undoubtedly had. But his curiosity wouldn't let him sit there in silence. "Everything all right?" he quietly, cautiously wondered.

"I'm not feeling great," she admitted as she kneeled in front of them. She began to rub Andre's back in an attempt to coerce him her way without waking him. "Thank you for staying with him."

He looked on, a bit perplexed as he helped Andre into his mother's arms. "I stayed because you asked me to."

"I know." She closed her eyes as her son intuitively wrapped himself around her in his slumber. "But I can't do this tonight."

"I didn't - I mean, I figured the moment was gone," he acknowledged, his eyebrows still furrowed with confusion. He couldn't help but notice the look of relief on her face once Andre was back in her arms. As if she was scared of losing him. "Michonne, what did Mike say?"

"He didn't say anything worth repeating," she promised, patting his knee before standing up again. "I just… I'm in a terrible mood now, and I don't wanna talk. I don't wanna pretend. I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he assured her, standing with her. "We have our whole lives to continue this if we want to. I just wanna make sure you're okay."

She closed her eyes again, having to resist the strong urge to burst into tears at that very second. Here she had this perfect man, ready and willing to be whatever she wanted. It was true way back when they first met, and miraculously, it still was, and she was coming dangerously close to ruining it again. "I'm okay," she said, mostly out of wanting it to be true.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, bringing her hand up to his concerned face, her thumb caressing his bearded cheek. He'd always been there for her, even when he couldn't be, and she didn't want to disappoint him – or herself, for that matter – again. "Just bear with me," she whispered. She left him with a short, chaste kiss to his soft lips, hoping he was okay with that being all they could have at the moment.


	10. Day Old Blues

 

"Just a second!" Carol declared, responding to the knocking at her front door. She let out a long yawn as she tightly tied her robe, expecting to find one of their guests with a question or request once she opened said door. Her blue stare narrowed at the sight of Michonne standing there instead, fully dressed and toting two coffee mugs, which instantly piqued Carol's suspicions. She must have wanted something. "What time is it?" she mumbled, turning back into her apartment; leaving the door open for her friend to follow.

"It's almost 7:30," Michonne revealed in a voice low enough to match the early hour. They settled in the kitchen, where Carol opted for a stool at the counter while she decided to stand. "I didn't mean to wake you. But I texted and you didn't answer, so…"

"Yeah, because I was asleep," she returned, sliding one of the coffee mugs her way. She took a sip, reveling in the chocolatey, caffeinated goodness before asking the important and obvious question. "What do you want?"

Michonne smiled, appreciating that she could always rely on Carol for her bluntness. "I… need you to make breakfast for everyone," she submitted carefully, knowing she was asking for a lot at the absolute last minute. "Please?"

"That's it?" Carol frowned.

"Yeah," she chuckled, relieved. "I was planning to do it myself, but I've got a Mike thing on my hands, and I need to do a pickup, so it would be a huge help to me."

Carol winced this time, noting her mention of the dreaded ex. And now that she'd brought it up, she could see where Michonne's light demeanor definitely seemed dimmed a bit – a feeling she knew all too well. "A Mike thing? What does that mean?"

"He showed up last night," she muttered, shaking her head.

" _Here_?" she questioned with wide eyes. "Are you serious?" She watched Michonne nod, though her disbelief didn't wane. "Why?"

"He says he wanted to see Andre," she shrugged. "He didn't call, he didn't mention that he was even thinking about coming. We were all half asleep and getting ready for bed and he came knocking at the door."

"Wow." Carol cocked her head to the side as she studied Michonne's sullen expression. "Was Andre happy to see him, at least?"

"He doesn't know yet," she sighed, taking a quick sip of her coffee. "He was already asleep, and I told Mike he had to stay somewhere else, so he's at the Four Seasons right now."

"You kicked him out?" she quietly cackled.

"Where am I gonna put him?"

Carol shrugged, figuring that true. Had it been her ex-husband, she likely would've done the same. "Well… Daryl isn't using his villa," she asserted, pursing her lips in an attempt to suppress her smile. "So if you need it…"

It was Michonne's turn to get wide-eyed and curious as she came to recognize that it was, in fact, almost 7:30, and Carol wasn't up and at 'em as she usually would've been. She glanced down the corridor of her villa, observing the closed master bedroom door at the end of the hallway. "Carol…"

She giggled amusedly at her confession, allowing her smile to say what her words wouldn't. "I'm divorced. I can do what I please."

"You absolutely can," Michonne agreed. "But you haven't said a peep about this, even when I asked you about it."

"Well I didn't know what it was gonna be at that point," she said, stealing another sip of her coffee. "It wasn't really anything until last night."

Michonne looked on, both impressed and envious of her friend. They both could've been sitting there smiling about getting laid, had it not been for Mike. "Well Merry Christmas to you," she teased.

Carol raised her mug in a show of her satisfaction. "You know, you're one to talk about someone keeping secrets," she observed with a raised eyebrow.

"If I had a secret to keep, you'd know it," she answered flatly.

"So I'm not supposed to comment on the fact that you left your kids at my place all night Saturday night? And then I don't see you at all yesterday..."

Michonne laughed, but was quick to deny any interesting happenings. "All we did was go to sleep, Carol."

"Naked, I'm sure."

"Jesus," she chuckled, trying not to spit out her coffee as she did. Carol had a uniquely crass way of making her laugh when she didn't want to, and she loved her for it. It made her wish they'd spent more time together in the past, but given their slight age differences, they didn't truly get to know one another until Lori's diagnosis brought them closer. "Whenever that does happen, I'm sure you'll be the first to figure it out."

"That's probably true," she granted with a knowing smirk. "But seriously. Is everything okay with you two? Now that you have a 'Mike thing'?"

"That's a good question." She picked up her emptied mug, solemnly wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter. She wanted to be surprised by the question, but it had been on her mind all night. "I think so."

Carol nodded, discerning that Michonne was ready to head out, and she rested her hand over her friend's before she could go. "Don't let him ruin this," she implored her, speaking from her own experience. "He can only do it if you let him."

Michonne smiled back somberly but appreciatively as she squeezed Carol's warm hand. "I'll see you later."

She left Carol's place quietly, unsure whether to feel better or worse about her current state of affairs. She supposed it was encouraging that Carol and Daryl had found their way to one another after all these years. Then again, she and Rick had a twenty-year head start, which didn't inspire much confidence. She tried to convince herself that her friends also had an almost-moment back in the day, perhaps on some occasion where Daryl spent the night at the Walshes'. She chuckled to herself, letting those thoughts leave her mind as she made her way to Rick's villa. She knew she probably should've sent him a text considering the early hour, but she wanted to see his face. For that matter, after the way things ended the night before, she wanted him to see hers.

So it was a relief when she knocked and he answered rather quickly, declaring he would be right there. But she nearly lost her breath when he opened the door - nothing but a towel wrapped around his slim hips, his wet curls slicked back, his tan skin dampened. She inhaled sharply, with nowhere to exhale all the indecent thoughts that were suddenly consuming her. "Shit," she whispered under her breath, her eyes scanning his waistline before smiling at him. "Hey."

"Good mornin'," he chuckled, noticing her stare. "This is a nice surprise."

"So is this," she retorted, frankly referring to his state of undress.

Unprepared for her response, a raised eyebrow accompanied a smirk as he opened the door to allow her inside. "You're in a better mood, I take it."

"I don't know if it's actually better, or if I'm just trying to make it so," she admitted, stepping into his temporary home. "They're asleep?" she asked, referring to Carl and Judith.

"Carl is," he nodded. "Judith is up, back at her movie-making."

Michonne smiled at the thought as she watched Rick saunter past her looking like morning sex, her gaze fixating on his bare back as she let out a small sigh. "So… do you feel like going for a ride?"

Rick looked back at her, surprised again as he found a plain white t-shirt in his dresser and pulled it on. "I feel like I can't say no to that."

"To the airport," she appended, grinning at what she knew were his own suggestive thoughts. "Sasha and her boyfriend already landed, but she said they could wait until the rest come in. They're gonna go get breakfast in the meantime."

"Is this boyfriend the actor guy from your going away party?"

"God no," she scoffed, leaning against the nearest wall as she tried not to watch him get dressed. But she couldn't help herself, eyeing him as he slipped on a pair of navy blue boardshorts, sans underwear she presumed, and then dropped his towel once they were comfortably in place. "He's a sergeant in the Army or something," she went on as she finished ogling him. "I only met him once on FaceTime. He was very… imposing."

"That's an unusual adjective," he chuckled.

"I don't know how else to describe him," she shrugged, smiling. "You'll see."

"Well yeah, I'd be glad to go for a ride," he nodded back. "Of course."

She nodded too, but couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a strange energy between them that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It wasn't bad or even particularly noticeable, but certainly something there that wasn't the night before. Or perhaps something was missing that had been otherwise apparent the last few days. She wasn't entirely sure, but it was hard to ignore. And still, she was going to try and do just that. "So I told Mike he could see Andre today," she revealed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "They're gonna hang out, go to the beach while we have our cookout."

Rick turned back to her, seeing that she was visibly uncomfortable with the idea, rendering him at a loss for a response. "So that's really why he's here? To see Andre?"

"So he says," she replied, keeping her eyes on him and his unreadable expression. "I just don't know why he couldn't call first if that were the case."

"You think it's somethin' else?"

"I don't know…" She sighed because she was tired of thinking about it after spending most of her night with it weighing on her mind. "I wonder if he felt left out," she offered as a question. "All of us here without him..."

"We did used to do this kinda thing together," Rick agreed. "But he's the one who disappeared on us. On you."

She nodded in agreement, knowing that part better than anyone. "So you think it's a bad idea?"

It was Rick's turn to sigh as he turned from her to find his flip-flops sitting neatly in a corner of the room. "I don't think it matters what I think," he answered evenly. "I've never been in a situation like this, so all I can say is that you should do what's best for Andre. But... you already know that."

"Yeah, it's the figuring out what's best that's the problem," she glumly smiled.

"How does Andre feel about seeing him?"

She shook her head. "I'm about to go talk to him and find out."

"I'll meet you downstairs then?"

She nodded, calculating that it was probably close to 8:00 – Mike would be showing up soon. She only had a few minutes to get Andre ready to go and put on her game face. "Sounds good."

Rick's eyes followed her as she saw herself out, her kelly green sundress swaying with her hips, making him bite at his bottom lip. Once she was gone, he shuffled his way into the room his children were sharing, amused to find Judith still on the floor, engrossed in her mission, while Carl was at least half awake with his phone sitting on his chest. He left them with a quick set of instructions and then to their devices before heading off to the main kitchen, in search of some version of breakfast before he and Michonne hit the road. When he made it down there, he saw where Michonne had laid out the ingredients for another one of her elaborate meals, including an array of tropical fruits and the waffle iron set up near the stove. But with his limited time, he settled on a bowl of cereal, figuring Carl wouldn't mind, and he went to retrieve a bowl. He smiled to himself, thinking of how well he'd gotten to know this place in just a few short days. He was getting used to it; getting comfortable there, though he knew it likely wasn't the best idea. Getting attached to something he knew he couldn't have was a familiar and unwelcome feeling.

As he started to pour his cereal, he could hear the front doors open and close, and he moved to get a glimpse of the culprit. Despite knowing Mike was on his way, he was still surprised to see him; expecting, for some reason, to find Shane or Morgan instead of Michonne's husband walking toward him. "Hey," he greeted him coolly, quietly before going to resume his task. But he felt himself tense when Mike joined him.

"Good morning," Mike submitted, smirking to himself. He was amused that he somehow kept ending up in this kitchen - the only place Michonne would allow him, it seemed. All while Rick could apparently roam wherever he pleased, making himself at home all over the place. "You enjoying it here?" he ventured to ask, feeling like the silence was another person in the room with them.

"Yeah, it's nice," Rick nodded, turning back to Mike as he finished preparing his cereal. "Michonne built a hell of a place here."

"Yeah, she did," he agreed, his eyes instinctively surveying the lavish decor. The place screamed Michonne from top to bottom.

"Where are you flyin' in from?" Rick wondered in the interest of small talk. He knew he wouldn't have much to say, but it was a place to start.

"Oh, I came in from Atlanta," he confirmed with his own nod. "Just got back from Malaysia on Friday. And after spending the last couple months with so many sick kids… I just wanted to see my son," he intimated earnestly. "I didn't mean to disrupt anything, man."

Rick shrugged with one shoulder as he took in a spoonful of his Cinnamon Toast Crunch. "No one can blame you for that."

"Yeah, well, Michonne does."

"No, I think she just wanted you to call first."

Mike chuckled at his quick answer, understanding that Michonne had already told him her side of the story; there was no point in trying to argue his own. "I guess I'm not used to having to make an appointment to see my own family."

Rick had to stuff his mouth again to keep from saying something rude – something about how they weren't used to seeing him at all. "Well I'm glad you'll get to see Andre today," he offered instead.

Mike simply nodded again, lacking a response that also wouldn't come off as impolite. "So… this thing with you and Michonne," he started, unable to beat around the bush any longer. "What is it?"

"What is it?" Rick repeated, baffled more by his audacity than the actual inquiry.

"Is it serious? Or a vacation fling? Is it anything?"

Rick calmly set his bowl on the counter as he tried to think of a diplomatic response to the intrusive question. Especially when he didn't know the answer. He knew what he wanted it to be, but he wasn't sure what it actually was. "You ask Michonne about this?"

"I did. And she avoided the question."

"Then that's probably your answer," he gestured another shrug with his hand. "You know I'm not gonna stand here and contradict her."

"Yeah, I know you do everything she wants," Mike shot back, his tone dripping in sarcasm. "I guess I just figured if you were moving in on my family, maybe you'd be decent enough to at least tell me."

His jaw immediately and visibly clenched, and he wanted once again to utter something flippant, just so Mike was clear that he wasn't intimidated by him or his sudden presence. But of course he heard Andre, and subsequently, Michonne echoing in the nearby halls, and he decided to pull back, forcing the exchange to a standstill. "I dunno what to tell you."

Mike nodded, accepting that he wasn't going to get a straight answer about this from either of them, and would probably have to observe for himself. So he forced himself to put it on the backburner and turned his focus to the sound of his son. They noticed each other at the same time, their identical smiles claiming their faces as their eyes locked.

"Daddy!" Andre shouted, releasing his mother's grip to run for his father.

Michonne watched a bit wistfully as Mike stooped to the ground to and scooped up their son, squeezing him tightly in a sweet show of affection. She could tell they'd missed each other, which broke her heart and fixed it all at once.

"You ready to go to the beach?" Mike asked him, carefully setting him back on the floor as he gazed at him.

"I'm ready," Andre grinned, already thinking about what he would have for breakfast with his dad. But then his happy brown eyes began to scan the kitchen with confusion and he looked back at Rick. "Umm, where's Judith?"

"Oh. She's… upstairs with Carl," he answered, taken aback by his question. It just struck him that this would be the first time all week that Andre and Judith were separated. "She's gonna hang out here today while you go with your dad."

His expression immediately fell, his typically buoyant stare dimming into one of disappointment. "Well then I wanna stay here, too."

Rick looked at Mike sympathetically then, because he knew what it must have felt like to hear those words – his own kids would almost always rather do anything other than hang out with him. But he imagined it had to sting for Mike when he hadn't seen Andre in months.

Michonne was quick to step in, even though she didn't have much to say in Mike's defense. "Your dad came all the way here to see you," she said. She carefully gathered her dress as she knelt to the floor to speak to her son on his level. "Judith will be here when you get back."

"But why can't she come with us?"

"Well… she doesn't know your dad," she offered, her voice gentle as she took his hand into hers. "And he came to be with you."

"Mom," he sighed, resting his forehead against hers – something he often did in an attempt to sway her. "You said they were gonna leave soon. I wanna stay with Judith as much as I can."

She smiled, because she understood his sentiment all too well. "We still have a few days before they leave," she reminded him. "I promise you won't miss anything."

"How about I just take Judith too," Mike offered as a solution. He hated seeing his son so distraught over something so minor. "I know she doesn't know me, but I'm pretty good with kids."

Rick's squint responded to the suggestion before the words could even make it out of his mouth, but he was rather quick to decline. "That's all right," he said, then kneeled beside Michonne to talk to Andre. "You mean to tell me you aren't sick of Judith yet?"

Andre laughed at the question, correctly assuming it was meant to be a silly one. "No, of course not."

"You sure about that?" Rick prodded, smiling at his genuine answer. "I mean, she talks a _lot_. Even in her sleep."

"I know," he granted with another giggle, "but I like that. It's like having a sister."

"It is," Rick nodded, glancing at Michonne to make sure she didn't mind his interruption. "Now I didn't have a sister growin' up, but I do have a little brother. And when we were your age, as much fun as we had together, we also liked to have some time apart. I think we needed it," he added, studying Andre's face to gauge whether he was buying what he was selling. "And we would come home at the end of the day and we got to talk about all the things we did without each other. It brought us closer in a way."

Andre took a moment to consider that it could be nice not being right by Judith's side all day long; that they would have something new to talk about. But he also realized that being with his buddy wasn't the only thing he'd be missing out on. "But you're gonna have the cookout with me."

"We'll all still be right here when you get back," Michonne promised. "It's just a couple of hours."

"Why can't Daddy stay here with us?"

Michonne let out a quiet sigh, trying to think up a safe answer to the reason why she didn't want her ex hanging around. It was mostly for selfish reasons, she recognized, and maybe that wasn't fair to her son.

"He wants to be with you," Rick responded for her. "He came to see you; not all of us."

"He works so hard," Michonne appended, agreeing with Rick. "And when he has free time, he wants to spend it with _you_ , Peanut."

Mike looked on, watching his son reluctantly nod in agreement to the arrangement, and the optics weren't lost on him – Michonne and Rick ostensibly parenting his son while he simply observed. Then again, at least he had an answer about what was going on between them. "C'mon, Dude," Mike interjected, holding out his hand for Andre. "I found a place where we can get some coconut rice pudding."

"Can we get some chocolate bread pudding too?" he asked, his face lighting up.

Mike chuckled at the way he loved food in much the same way his mother did. "We'll see."

"Please have him back by two," Michonne instructed as she and Rick stood at the same time. "I left his bag by the door, it's got sunscreen, a couple of snacks, water, and his favorite beach toys."

"Yes, ma'am," he smirked. "We'll see y'all later."

"Bye, Mommy," Andre waved. "Bye, Uncle Rick."

"Have fun," Rick called after them.

Michonne watched with a forced grin as they shuffled off toward the exit and she could only hope her kid would be okay without her for a few hours. Her smile turned genuine, though, when she felt Rick's hands on her shoulders, and she allowed herself to rest her cheek against him. "Thank you," she whispered. It didn't properly convey just how appreciative she was, but she needed to say _something_ to acknowledge it. Him.

"You sure you don't wanna go with them," he questioned, feeling the tension in her back. He knew she wouldn't properly enjoy her day with her son gone.

"No," she immediately shook her head, frowning at the thought. "I have too much to do." She patted his hand, her thumb caressing his skin. "And I feel quite similarly to Andre – I want as much time with you as I can get."

His lips quirked into a small, proud smile, relieved to hear her say that out loud. He softly kissed her bare shoulder before replying, "Me, too."

"Not to mention, I have to meet your girlfriend…"

Rick's pleased expression immediately deflated and he shook his head at her insistence on referring to Jessie as such. He was glad she was finally arriving just so he could prove her theory wrong. "Very funny."

"I know," she grinned, gently squeezing his fingers before turning to face him. "We should go."

* * *

Michonne found herself rather unsurprised when she finally did meet the notorious Jessie Anderson - a bubbly, pretty-ish blonde that reminded her of the type of girl that often flocked to Rick (and Shane, for that matter) back when they were in college. The ones that would flag her down after class or at parties because they'd always see him with her. So they'd often begin their queries with something along the lines of, _You guys are, like, really close, right?_ Which was why she couldn't help but notice when Jessie introduced Rick to her friend as "the guy I told you about." Making it clear that she had an interest in him beyond friendship. And why Rick's obliviousness to it all was both annoying and endearing. Some things just never changed.

But as the day went on, she was able to ignore it easily enough, finding Jessie to be kind and even a little bit charming, and both she and her friend Tara seemed genuinely appreciative of the trip. Perhaps she was too distracted by Andre's absence to pick up on what Carl disliked so much about her, but on a surface level, she was fine. Of course Michonne had to chuckle when Jessie randomly complimented her with, "God, you're gorgeous." As though the very notion took her by surprise. But again, she was used to it from Those Girls. They never deemed her a threat or an obstacle toward their goal of getting their guy, but rather a helping hand. She didn't notice the way Rick would look to her when he said something like, "Yeah, we've had a great week so far." Or the shy smiles and knowing glances she and Rick would exchange. Particularly when Tyreese joked that Rick looked so good, he must've found himself an island woman. Because no matter how pretty they liked to say she was, Michonne was invisible to girls like Jessie. It should've annoyed her - and maybe it did on some level - but mostly, it was just amusing.

"I hate her."

Michonne looked up from her phone to see her godson plopping into the lounge chair beside her, obviously vexed as he made his grand declaration. "Who do you hate?" she chuckled, already having an idea of the answer.

He nodded in the direction of the pool, where Jessie and Judith were spiritedly playing around, while Rick watched them from the sidelines with a drink in hand. "My new mom," he returned sarcastically, complete with an eyeroll.

"You're so dramatic," she shook her head.

The day was going fairly well, as far as she was concerned. After introductions and tours were rendered, the group congregated by the pool for their cookout, and as the clock headed toward 2:00, they were all either still eating or recovering from a plate of something. It was a smorgasbord of seafood, from snapper and cod to lobster, conch, and crayfish, along with fried plantains and curried squash, and every combination of rum and punch one could find. The music of George Michael thumped and hummed through the surround sound speakers, all of it making for a lively and undeniably summery vibe, despite the late December date. It'd been a nice welcome for their six new guests.

"When's Andre coming back?" Carl questioned, picking up his plate to rest in his lap. "I need someone to hang out with since Judith is apparently a traitor."

"Should be soon," she tersely remarked, checking the time on her phone for the third time in two minutes. It was 1:50, and she'd yet to receive any inkling that Mike was on his way.

"Everything okay?" he asked, observing how easily she became distracted.

"I'm fine." She forced it out of her mind for the umpteenth time and set her phone face down on her chair as she scanned the party. Sasha and Abraham playing cards with Carol and Jenny; Morgan and Daryl filling their plates for what had to be a third round of plantains. Rick caught her eye more than any of the others, which wasn't unusual, but it was his body language this time that gave her pause. He seemed withdrawn. Contemplative, perhaps; staring into the water instead of watching his daughter. He looked the way she'd been feeling for much of the day. "Gimme one of those," she gestured to Carl's plate, gratefully accepting a conch fritter from the proffered platter. "And leave your sister alone."

"Oh, I plan to," he quipped, peering in Judith's direction. "She went against the family."

Michonne chuckled too, tickled by his disdain for this seemingly harmless woman. "She's nice," she said in a plain reading of the situation. "She certainly treats you well, even when you're borderline rude to her-."

"When was I rude?" he frowned.

"When she asked you what you'd been up to this week, you let out the longest, ugliest sigh. I wanted to knock you upside the head."

"It's not like she actually cared about the answer," he shrugged. "She was more worried about waiting on my dad and Judith."

"You're a tough crowd, my friend," she chuckled, taking another bite of her small snack. "I can't fault her for wanting your dad to notice her."

"I gotta say, I don't like how nonchalant you are about this whole thing..."

Michonne sent him a quick glance from behind her sunglasses, her eyebrow furrowed, but she didn't respond. Instead, she picked up her phone, visibly bridling at the lack of texts or calls from one Michael Boykin.

"Are you sure everything's okay, Michonne?"

"I'm fine," she insisted, ignoring the obvious signs of her frustration – particularly how harshly she was tapping at her phone as she messaged Mike. "Just looking for my son."

Carl nodded, unsure whether he should say anything else, not wanting to annoy her with his over-the-top contempt for Jessie. He figured Michonne would be the one person who might share in it, but she clearly had her own things going on, so he figured he shouldn't to bother her. He instead continued to pick at his plate as he noticed his godfather coming to join them, hopefully to save the conversation. "Hey, Shane," he greeted him with a mouthful of food.

"Hey, man," he returned coolly, taking a small gulp of his drink. "Y'all all right over here?"

Carl nodded again in response as he moved over to give Shane some space to sit. "Hey, where'd Andrea go?" he wondered. "I haven't seen her since breakfast."

"Oh, she wasn't feeling so hot, so she's layin' down before dinner," he said, gesturing toward the guest rooms. He glanced at Michonne, seemingly unaware of his presence. "You mind if I talk to Michonne alone for a minute, man?"

"Oh. Yeah," Carl granted, already maneuvering out of his seat. "Sure."

Michonne looked over to the exchange, confused by the switch in companions, but happy to welcome a friend she hadn't seen much of in the last few days. "Hey, you," she grinned at him.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, noting the unyielding grip she had on her phone; the fact that it'd been that way for much of the day. She was distracted.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she granted with a shrug. "I'm just… observing. Getting a read on our new friends."

He chuckled to himself, nodding as his glance went in the direction of Sasha's boyfriend, and it was visually obvious he was telling another one of his animated stories. "Abraham is a trip, isn't he?"

"He is," she smiled, genuinely enjoying that about him. She found that he wasn't quite so imposing after hearing him speak, watching him interact with Sasha. He was hard, but soft for her, and funny in a crass, charismatic way. "Tara is too," she submitted. "Just… delightfully awkward."

He nodded again as he gulped down another swig of his pineapple juice and rum. He kept an eye on Rick, who'd been noticeably quiet all day long. And considering how light he'd been for the past few days, it was unfortunate to see him revert back to the melancholy dude of the past two years. The guy with no life outside of his kids and his work. It had been a welcome change to see him all carefree and happy there with Michonne. And Shane wasn't entirely sure of the reason for the change, but he could take a guess. "So listen," he quietly proclaimed, gently hitting her knee, "a little bird told me that Mike was in town."

Michonne stared at her friend, their eyes obviously locking despite their sunglasses covering them. She'd been vague with the group about where Andre was, but she figured the subject of Mike's presence would come up sooner or later. "Would that little bird's name happen to be Carol?" she smirked.

He offered a shrug and a small smile instead of an answer. "Is it a secret?"

"I don't know what it is," she admitted. "More than anything, I'm trying not to think about it."

Shane nodded thoughtfully, seeing that the subject was obviously uncomfortable for her. "Well we don't have to talk about it," he said. "But if he's botherin' you, you know you can let us know, right?"

"I do know that," she grinned appreciatively. "It's not like that, I don't think. I'm just…" Her words trailed off as she exhaled, hating that she was just out of control of her fucked up mood. "I'm frustrated."

"I can tell," he chuckled. "Relationships are hard, man. Even ones that are over."

"Especially ones that are over..."

He scoffed in agreement, feeling reluctant now to raise the question he'd really come over to ask. But as he watched her type out another text, presumably to Mike given the sigh that followed, he decided that he needed to. Because Rick probably wouldn't. "So with him being here," Shane started, his hesitance apparent, "you know I gotta ask what that means for my boy."

Her brow line furrowed again as she glanced at Rick, then back to Shane. "What's that supposed to mean?" she shook her head.

Shane laughed uneasily as he scratched at the nape of his shaved head. "Listen, I'm not sayin' I know what's goin' on, but I saw how he was a couple days ago, and it ain't how he is now. So I'm just askin'. If your focus is on Mike, you know, where's that leave Rick?"

Michonne grimaced once more, feeling like she'd been slapped by the question. She wanted to argue that her focus wasn't on Mike, but she knew it would've been a lie. Since he'd stepped into her house the night before, he was nearly all she'd thought about.

"I'm not tryin' to make you feel bad," he submitted softly, her silence making him feel guilty. "But it took him years to get over you the first time." He could feel her eyes on him as he spoke to something she probably thought he never knew about. And he didn't – not really. Not explicitly. But he could tell. In another life, he probably could've worked in law enforcement, because he'd put the clues together all on his own. The way Michonne was looking at him now only confirmed it. "All I'm askin' is that you don't do that to him again."

"Shane," she whispered, swallowing visibly as she processed the revelation. "Did Lori know?"

"I don't know," he confessed, comfortingly rubbing her knee. "I don't think so, but… she did know you and Rick better than anyone. Maybe there's a reason she asked you to look out for him and the kids."

She nodded, knowing there was nothing she could do about it now, even if she did. But the thought – one that used to cross her mind every now and then, back when it first went down – scared the hell out of her. She took a deep breath, attempting to quell all of her rampant thoughts and emotions. Her face and body relaxed just a little when her phone vibrated in her hand, Mike finally informing her that he was on his way with her kid. She turned to Shane, wiping the corners of her eyes before the tears could slip past her shades. "I can't make myself just get over this… intrusion into my life," she told him as honestly as she knew how. She was thankful the music was concealing their conversation from everyone else, though she imagined if Rick was paying her any attention, he was probably wondering what they were discussing. "Mike and I have too much history for me to act like this isn't happening," she went on. "But Rick is… he's a light for me. And I'm not gonna hurt him. Not if I can help it."

"All right," he nodded, accepting that answer. "I don't mean to be all in your business, but–"

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly what you meant," she interrupted him, grinning.

"Well… okay, yeah," he chuckled back. "I just - I wanna look out for him, because he's not gonna do it himself."

"I think you underestimate him," she nodded, "but I get it. I'm glad he has you."

"I hope he has you," he said.

She smiled again, appreciative of Shane's support, even if it came in the form of being a bit presumptuous and brash. But that was essentially Shane Walsh in a word or two. She capped off their conversation with a quiet comment that was meant for herself, but she didn't mind if he heard: "Me, too."

* * *

"Hey, stranger."

As Rick rounded the corner toward his villa, he was pleasantly surprised to find Michonne lounging in the hammock just outside his temporary home. She looked almost ethereal swaying in the white canvas, which made him smile. "Hey. What are you doin' out here?"

"I was waiting for you," she admitted, gesturing for him to come join her. "Today was so hectic, we only got a couple of minutes together. And after last night… I just wanted some time alone with you."

He nodded, happy to hear that that was something she'd thought about. He regretted that they only had a few minutes now before they were due to head to dinner. Until today, they'd managed to always find time for each other. "I missed you, too."

Beaming, she watched him kick off his shoes and slip into the hammock so that he was facing her, their bodies aligned in head-to-foot formation. She hadn't had the best day, what with all her Mike drama, but just a few seconds in Rick's presence and she was already feeling better. Lighter. "You tired?" she asked, staring as he closed his eyes with a sigh. The setting sun glowing through the open architecture made his skin look orange, which made her smile again.

"A little," he acknowledged, opening his eyes to gaze back at her. He noticed her bare leg pressed against his, prompting him to take her left foot and commence a massage. He grinned when she let out a small moan, her foot immediately melting at his touch. "It's been a long day."

"Mmm," she replied to the massage as much as the statement, agreeing with both. "Must be exhausting having Jessie fawn all over you while you pretend not to notice."

He smiled bashfully, but didn't take the bait. "More like time goes by slower when we're not together."

In reply, Michonne's foot flinched in his hand, her body reacting to his suave declaration before her mind could even unravel it. He'd deflected her comment and complimented her all in the same breath. It was impressive. "I'm sorry," she offered, knowing she was the main reason for their distance that day. "I was distracted."

"Not too much to notice me being _fawned_ over," he smirked, repeating the phrase as if it were foreign to him. His hand continued up her leg, kneading her soft calf as he waited for her response.

She shrugged. "It was hard not to notice."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"Even your son did," she maintained, quietly giggling as his deft fingers tickled her skin. "He was kind of pissed about it, which was amusing."

"Well, he wouldn't be his mother's son if he didn't get irrationally angry about somethin' every now and then."

She grinned, although mainly to suppress a full laugh, even if she found his statement as true as it was funny. "You're terrible."

"What'd he say?"

"Nothing more than last time," she shook her head. Her body seemed to be moving on its own, slipping downward to give Rick further access to her leg. "He thinks she's putting on an act, and it bothers him."

"And what'd you think?" he wondered distractedly. He was more concentrated on Michonne's impossibly soft skin than anything anyone had to say about his neighbor.

"I told him she's... fine," she answered evenly; delicately. "I can see what he means, though. She spent much of the afternoon playing the role of your wife – or auditioning for it, at least. It's clear that she thinks more of this than you do." She gazed at him, waiting for a reaction that never came. "And I find it hard to believe you don't see that."

"I mean… I guess I do," he confessed, feeling timid about the very topic – and discussing it with Michonne, especially. "I think I was ignoring it because I just wasn't interested, but… I dunno. I haven't figured out what to say to her."

She rolled her eyes as his hands went moving up to the back of her knee, and she nearly lost her train of thought. At that moment, she wasn't particularly interested in talking about Jessie either. "Well you can always do what you used to do…"

Rick smirked again as he thought of how… active his social life became whenever he and Lori went through one of their breakups. "As in sleep with women I'm uninterested in to keep me from thinking about the one I wanna be with?"

"Rick…" she sighed, again, trying not to laugh. Failing this time. She realized that he was probably still tipsy from their little party, which always made him more brazen, and therefore funnier to her.

He smiled at her smile, the first genuine one he'd seen from her all day. He relished in it as he switched to her other leg, starting at her foot once more while she wriggled in response. "I'm kidding. I only did that once."

"Yeah, I bet," she shook her head, the corners of her lips still curled upward in amusement. "I was just suggesting that you tell her you're taken."

He gave her a sidelong glance, her statement stealing his focus from her lovely feet. "Am I?" he wondered as casually as he could.

She stared back, understanding what he was asking – he wanted to know what they were doing. Where were they now that Mike had come along. "You know I'm still with you," she said, turning serious. It was a question and an answer. "Right?"

"I do," he nodded, letting her foot momentarily settle in his lap. "I think I do," he added, his voice a hoarse whisper in his attempt to speak quietly. "I'm not in a rush, I just–"

"You wanna know," she nodded. "You deserve to know."

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't wanna tell me."

"I know." She attempted to sit up, but the impractical cloth seating did nothing to help her cause and only pushed them closer together, her legs landing over his thighs. Not that she minded. She preferred it, really. "But you've been… distant today. A little," she appended. "I don't think it's on purpose. Maybe you didn't even notice it. But I just don't want things to change between us."

"I'm not trying to be," he promised, resuming his leg and foot rub with his gentle touch stroking her knee. "It's just strange bein' in the middle of you and Mike."

"Mike's the one in the middle of us," she corrected him with a small, sad smile. Even if Mike was still technically her husband, he wasn't the person she wanted anymore. She was coming to terms with the fact that maybe he never really was. "I just want it to be over," she sighed, sitting back to enjoy her massage. To enjoy Rick.

She was tempted to keep the conversation going and tell him about her day – divulging what Shane said to her; what she'd discovered about Carol and Daryl; how admittedly happy Andre was after spending those few hours with his dad. She wanted to share all the major plot points covering the time they spent apart, just the way Rick had described to Andre. But she ultimately decided the silence was better. Rick's hands were doing the talking as they moved up to her thigh, making her entire body tingle as he squeezed at her toned muscles. She let out an involuntary, quiet moan when he slightly parted her legs to slip his hand between them and she wondered if – and maybe even hoped – he would go up farther.

"You okay?" he chuckled, noting the sated look on her face. But with her foot rested on his crotch, he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't asking himself. As their eyes locked, with cheeky smirks playing on each of their faces, his mind wandered – up her dress, for the most part. But he questioned whether she was daring him to go further, or was he simply seeing what he wanted? If he had to wonder, he knew he shouldn't. He wouldn't. But the heat he felt between her thighs had him desperate to slip his fingers past her panties; finally find out what it'd be like to make her moan, right there in the open corridor.

"We have dinner soon," she declared in a whisper, seeming to read his thoughts. She needed to remind herself of the same before she ended up spreading her legs wide open for him. She only hoped her attraction to him wasn't as obvious as it seemed. "Fuck you for continually setting these traps for me to just… fall into," she grinned, attempting to sit up again.

He chuckled in reply, mainly because he had no idea what she meant by that. "What trap did I set?"

"Aside from this? How about that obvious thirst trap this morning?" she recalled with raised eyebrows, although still amused by it. "You're shameless."

"Michonne, I don't even know what a 'thirst trap' is."

"It's when you do something seemingly innocent for the sake of attention," she explained pointedly. "Sexual attention."

"I see…"

"Like answering your door in nothing but a towel," she added, playfully staring him down.

Rick sat back with another laugh, rubbing his bearded chin with one hand, but kept the other rested on her bare leg. "That's not what I was doin'."

"Sure."

"And does this include when you 'adjust' your bikini while you're standing right in front of me?" he teased, recollecting the image of her doing exactly that just a couple of days prior. Not that he was complaining.

"Yeah, I'm gonna plead the fifth on that one," she giggled, making him laugh again, too. It was the first time all day that he seemed genuinely happy, she noticed. And just that slice of a moment made her shitty day worth it.

"Well don't you two look comfortable," an unrecognizable voice announced from behind Michonne. She turned to find Jessie – speaking of thirst – all dolled up and ready for dinner. "Hey," she greeted them with her dimpled smile.

"Hey," Rick answered for them both, easing his grip on Michonne only slightly.

"I was just coming to get you," she explained. "But Michonne, I'm glad you're here." She took a few steps back from the hammock to allow them a full view of her ensemble. "Is this okay for dinner?"

Michonne glanced her up and down, from her gold earrings to her little black dress, down to her golden flat sandals, punctuated with white toenails. "You look great," she nodded. "Yeah."

"Really?" she winced, hoping she was being honest. "I didn't wanna be overdressed."

"No such thing," Michonne quipped with a polite smile. Inwardly, she was chuckling at the fact that Jessie seemed oblivious to Rick's hand up her skirt. Still invisible. "I should actually go get ready myself," she added, beginning to maneuver out of the crowded hammock. She smiled again when she felt Rick gently squeeze her leg before letting her go. "I'll meet you guys downstairs?"

"Yeah, sure," Jessie replied for both of them.

Rick watched his friend leave, feeling only slightly less disappointed than he was the night before. It was like being doused with water just when the fire was getting started again. And he realized his dismay must've shown on his face, because he immediately noticed Jessie's concerned grimace.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her tone matching that expression. "I just realized – I mean, I hope I wasn't interrupting. I thought you guys were just... sitting here."

"You didn't interrupt," he quietly denied. That'd already happened several times over by now. In fact, with all the 'close, but not quite's, it was starting to feel like something was insistent on pulling them apart. Of course, maybe it was his own insecurity, lingering from twenty years ago; or maybe it was just a strange 24 hours and it would all be better in the morning; but he was starting to worry about whatever that something was.


	11. Nothings Into Somethings

It was another early morning for Michonne and Carol as they bustled around the B&B's ample kitchen, endeavoring to the breakfast part of 'bed and breakfast.' They worked mostly in silence, having developed a natural rhythm with each other over the course of the week – with Michonne's regular staff gone for the holiday, they didn't have much choice in the matter. But Michonne couldn't help but think about how much she was going to miss Carol whenever she decided to go back to her regular life. And given the recent developments in her friendship, perhaps relationship, with Daryl, she imagined that would be soon.

She didn't say anything, though, not wanting to broach the subject until she absolutely had to. In fact, the thought of any of her friends leaving at the end of the week only saddened her. She'd stupidly gotten used to the sound of Andrea's laugh and Morgan's voice, the very idea that she could see Rick whenever she wanted to. She hated thinking about how they'd all be gone a week from then. So instead, she went about her duties, forcing it all out of her mind as she pushed a pan of croissants into the oven. The timer on the coffee sounded just as one of their guests came strolling through the front door. It was Jessie, back from a run on the beach, Michonne presumed seeing her attire and flushed face. "Good morning," she greeted her, smiling politely as she always did when acknowledging her. "I didn't think I'd see anyone up before the two of us."

Jessie sent a casual salutation Carol's way as she pulled out her earbuds. "Hey," she nodded, still a bit breathless from her workout. "Yeah, I usually try to get out by six and do an hour, but I was lazy today. Only got in about three miles."

Carol sighed exasperatedly at the notion of waking up just to work out every morning. "Jesus," she mumbled.

Michonne tried not to laugh, knowing what her friend was thinking. "While you're here, you should try swimming if you're comfortable with it," she recommended to her new acquaintance. "It's just as invigorating as running, but there's nothing quite like being in that water as the sun comes up."

"Oh," she replied, surprised by the suggestion, unsure why she hadn't thought of it herself. "Yeah, I guess I should try that. While I'm in paradise, huh?"

"Just an idea."

"I mean, Rick has gotten too lazy to run these days, so I might as well."

Michonne smirked at the mention of Rick's name, feeling her eagerness to talk about him, but decided against indulging her. It felt disingenuous when she knew more about their relationship than she did. "Well if you go, let me know what you think."

"I will," Jessie nodded, surveying the full kitchen as the two ladies worked. The origins of Michonne's establishment had been explained to her more than once by then, but it still awed her to see it for herself, watch it all in action. Sometimes, she felt like she couldn't even keep her home together, and here this woman had created an entire successful business on a whim. "Hey, can I help you guys with anything?" she wondered, realizing she was just standing there.

"I think we're okay," Carol answered over the sound of her knife chopping up pineapple. "You want some coffee? Or tea?"

"Oh, no, I don't wanna bother you."

"It's no bother," she insisted. "We were just about to sit down and have some."

"It's been our little routine once we get everything prepped," Michonne added, nodding for Jessie to take a seat at the table.

She followed the silent instructions, appreciative of the courtesy. She knew they were from Atlanta, so she shouldn't have been surprised by the southern hospitality that came with her stay there. "This is all so nice," she remarked as she sat down, knowing she was repeating herself from the day before. "It's been years since I've been… well, anywhere, really. But I don't know if I've ever been anywhere this beautiful."

"Well, if you stick with this group, they'll have you somewhere like this every other year," Carol informed her, bringing along the mugs and a small plate of leftover scones while Michonne followed with the coffee. "They're very serious about their vacations."

"Are you not included in that 'they'?" Jessie chuckled at the information.

"Typically, no."

"While Carol is technically just Shane's older sister, she was basically all of ours," Michonne interjected to clarify, "so naturally, she thought she was too good for us."

"Uh, more like I had a kid to raise," she corrected her friend, sending an appreciative smirk her way for attempting to sugarcoat it. "And I couldn't exactly afford to run off to Spain on a teacher's salary."

"And there lies my dilemma," Jessie agreed, smiling thankfully at Michonne as she poured her a cup. "I sure as hell can't afford any of this either."

Carol looked at her curiously, wondering how that was possible when she lived in the Grimes' affluent Sandy Springs neighborhood. "I thought you lived next door to Rick?"

Michonne shook her head at Carol's overtness, but Jessie didn't seem to mind as she quickly answered, "My husband pays for that house. Or rather, my ex-husband," she rolled her eyes. "He's a surgeon, and he was the sole earner while we were married, so. The child support arrangement doesn't suck."

Michonne's interest immediately piqued as she listened to Jessie speak of the same woes that would soon be ahead of her. She was tempted to ask details about her settlement, but she hesitated, figuring it wasn't her place.

"It just dawned on me that we're the three divorced ones in the bunch," Carol declared, raising her cup as Michonne took the seat beside her. "I think we just formed our own little club."

"First Wives Club?" Michonne chuckled, clinking mugs with her buddy. "I mean, minus the whole being left for younger women part." She then looked to Jessie, recognizing that might have been a premature statement. "Unless you…"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," she quickly shook her head, also raising a glass to the cause. "Just a terrible marriage."

Michonne and Carol looked at one another knowingly. "Ding, ding, ding," Carol proclaimed, finding a sad irony in their shared hellish experiences. "Looks like marrying a doctor wouldn't have done me as many favors as my grandmother thought."

Jessie's eyes lit up with recognition as she looked to Michonne. "Your husband was a doctor, too?"

"That's what I hear," she lightly scoffed. "Mainly because he couldn't go ten minutes without mentioning it to someone."

"Oh Jesus, tell me about it," she agreed, echoing her disdain. "Every reservation, every school function, nobody could ever just call him Pete. Had to be _Dr. Anderson_."

Michonne immediately thanked her lucky stars Mike never managed to take it quite that far. "I honestly started to think, you know maybe they teach them this in med school. How to steer every conversation into one about your profession."

"After sixteen years of countless work functions with Pete's colleagues, I've come to understand that it takes a special type of narcissist to become a doctor. Or a surgeon, at least."

"You might be onto something," she laughed, gulping down some of her coffee. "It would explain a lot."

"I think that's why I gravitated to Rick so quickly," Jessie went on, smiling to herself as she thought of her neighbor turned friend turned potentially more. "He's just good, you know? He's sweet."

Carol stared across the table at Jessie and her strange, wistful tone, wondering if she was misinterpreting it, or if she really had something beyond platonic going on with Rick.

"What am I saying, of course you guys know," she continued, chuckling nervously. "You certainly know him better than I do."

"Michonne does," Carol confirmed, taking a sip of her coffee. "Better than _I_ do, I mean."

"You were Lori's best friend, right?" Jessie asked. As Michonne nodded, she shook her head as she sadly looked down at the glass table between them. "I can't even imagine what it's been like for you and Rick, losing her like that."

"We had our friends," she shrugged, forcing herself to smile. "We had each other, I guess."

She nodded this time, relieved to hear that Rick had someone. It made sense, given how close their group seemed, and from the pictures a couple of people had shown her at dinner the night before. How nice it must've been to have people like that in their lives. The more time she spent with them, the more she wanted to be a part of it all. She knew she could never share their history, but maybe she could add to it. She let out a small sigh before going on, figuring Michonne and Carol were probably two of few people that could help her with the issue seemingly preventing that. "So I don't know if it's because of Lori – maybe you guys can tell me if he was always this way – but Rick seems so… impenetrable," she tried to describe, hoping she wasn't offending his friends. "I don't know if that's the right word."

"Well what are you trying to penetrate?" Carol pressed, her eyebrows knitted over her piercing eyes.

"Well, you know," she chuckled, thinking she probably sounded stupid. "I dunno, maybe it's too soon. But I figured since he invited me here… he was at least thinking about dating. But every time I talk to him, it's like I'm just… talking to my neighbor."

Carol looked to Michonne, waiting for her to explain exactly why that was, but she just sat there stuffing her mouth with pastries, because she was undoubtedly too nice to tell her the truth. "Michonne, what do you think about that?" she decided to prod her.

She had to resist the urge to side-eye her friend, knowing exactly what she was doing. But if someone was going to burst Jessie's bubble, it needed to be Rick – he was the one that invited her there without explaining his intentions. Or lack thereof. She had her own baggage to take care of. "I think… it's hard for me to say. Rick and I have just always been close," she offered delicately. "But he's been through a lot, and maybe he doesn't know what he wants. Or how to say it." She shook her head, feeling like a terrible person for blatantly lying to this woman when she knew exactly what Rick wanted. "I dunno, I guess, just be patient with him. Handle him with care."

"Yeah," Jessie nodded. "Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself."

"So if you take the trip out of the equation," Carol started to ask, simply out of her own curiosity, "have there been any other signs of interest from Rick? Have you been on a date?"

"Not unless sitting on his living room floor at midnight helping him sew a Halloween costume counts," she chuckled awkwardly. "No."

"Have you kissed?"

Michonne kept bracing herself for an answer that would contradict everything Rick had told her about this woman. She wasn't sure why, because she always knew Rick to be honest with her, but for some reason, she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop with their situation. After so many years, it all just felt a little too good to be true, she supposed. But before Jessie could answer the question, her phone began to vibrate against the table, startling all three of them and she quickly excused herself, leaving her with her Carol. Who used that opportunity to pinch Michonne's bare arm. "Ouch," she hissed quietly. "What the hell, Carol?"

"I should be asking you that," she whispered back. "What are you doing?"

"What am _I_ doing? I'm trying to mind my business, what are _you_ doing?"

"I'm trying to make sure this stranger doesn't steal your boyfriend from right under your nose," she quipped. "Why wouldn't you tell her you two are interested in each other?"

"Because it's none of _her_ business," she insisted, moving her chair away from Carol before she could assault her again. "And that's Rick's job."

"Oh, please."

"I would look crazy, petty, and mean if I sat here and said, 'Oh sorry, actually, Rick likes me. Enjoy your vacation.'" Michonne knew all too well that even if she was right, she would immediately turn into the villain of her own story.

"Well then I can tell her."

"If it means that much to you," she smirked, stuffing another bite of her scone into her mouth. "But Rick started this, he can finish it."

"When has Rick ever been one for confrontation?"

"You sound very judgmental right now, Carol."

"That's because I'm judging all three of you," she confirmed, standing from the table to resume her duties. "But fine, you can ruin everything if you want to."

Michonne rolled her eyes at her hyperbole, watching her leave the table just as Jessie returned from the foyer, finishing her call.

"All right, sweetie, I gotta go. I'll text you guys tonight, okay?" She reclaimed her seat, shaking her head at her younger son's inability to promptly end a call. "Bye bye, sweetie." She looked at Michonne apologetically, realizing she'd broken up their little club meeting. "I'm sorry about that. My kids…"

"No, don't apologize for taking care of them," she returned rather seriously. Given all her own internal battles with how to be a mother, it was something she was learning herself. Being a good mother, whatever that meant, wasn't something be sorry for. "Everything okay?"

"Oh. Yeah, they're fine. They're just… they're with their dad, so naturally, they call me every two hours for something."

"Naturally," Michonne chuckled. "They're teenagers, right?"

"Thirteen and sixteen," she nodded, stirring her coffee as she got comfortable in her seat again. "Though they act more like they're three and six."

She laughed, but thought to herself how Carl wasn't like that at all. Well, unless it came to Jessie, it seemed. Otherwise, he was much too mature for his age. "They probably just miss you."

"I like to think that," she smiled, her tone bordering on sarcastic, "but I think it's more they're not used to relying on their dad for anything."

"How long have you guys been divorced?" Michonne asked softly, betraying her own decision not to pry. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Not at all. I guess it's been a little over two years now," she nodded, avoiding Michonne's gaze. "The boys took it hard, but I just couldn't do it anymore. Not for them, and not to them."

"Well I can understand that," she assured her, her tone warm with empathy. "Do they see him often?" she went on, knowing she was being entirely too nosy. But none of her close friends were in a similar situation, and it was actually nice to have a candid discussion with someone who was. "Their dad, I mean."

"Whenever he decides they're worth his time," Jessie rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you know how it is with their schedules."

"Half the reason for our divorce, really," Michonne smiled emptily.

"But even so, I'm always encouraging their relationship. Nudging them to call him to help solve a problem for once; pushing him to come get them for the weekend." She shook her head at how much effort she was putting into something the three of them clearly weren't particularly interested in. "I know it's crazy, but I dunno. I think some of it is guilt on my part for giving them such a shitty father in the first place," she chuckled uneasily. "I can't afford therapy, so I have to self-diagnose."

Michonne gazed back at her, feeling tears stinging the back of her eyes, because she felt that very same emotion so acutely. Hearing someone else say it out loud... "You don't know how vindicated I feel right now," she laughed too, successfully holding back those tears. "I question myself every single day, wondering whether I'm helping or hurting my son."

Jessie smiled comfortingly, knowing all too well how she was feeling. "It sucks that there's no handbook for any of this."

" _How Not To Fuck Up Your Kid_."

"No fucking kidding," she laughed again, nodding at the fact that she'd unexpectedly found someone she immediately related to, and that was nice. "I probably am fucking them up somehow," she allowed as she absently picked at a scone she'd taken. "I just know I don't wanna be the reason they don't have a relationship with their dad."

"You're not scared of him hurting them?" Michonne frowned.

"Every day," Jessie was quick to admit. "And they'll probably find a way to blame me for it. But I'll also be there to pick up the pieces. And if it happens, and if we're lucky, maybe... they'll see their dad for what he is long before I was able to."

Michonne nodded thoughtfully, almost envying her for seeming so at peace with it all. For being confident in her decision. She hadn't reached that place yet, too scared of the thought of Andre being hurt by any of it. But maybe shielding him from Mike's shortcomings wasn't the best way to go about it. There was a fine line between protecting your kids and coddling them, and perhaps she was crossing it. She wasn't sure, but she appreciated Jessie for even giving her the thought. For giving her an option that didn't force her to be constantly cold and rigid toward the man she used to love. "Jessie, I can't even tell you how helpful this was," she hastened to say. She could hear the patter of someone's footsteps, probably Carol's, and she wanted to say it before they were interrupted. She wasn't sure if this would ever turn into a friendship – she doubted it, really – but it was nice to have an ally. "Thank you."

* * *

The eventful day went by much too quickly, as vacation days tended to do, with most of the group embarking on a bike tour of the island, followed by a round of golf and a relaxing late dinner at Carol's favorite restaurant. By midnight, Michonne found herself dozing off before even getting into her pajamas, only to be stirred awake by the soft ring and buzz of her phone against her nightstand. It was Rick, asking if she wanted to go for a late night swim, and she immediately got a second wind, enthusiastically agreeing. They'd already said their good nights after returning from dinner, but she hoped – she always hoped – once the kids were in bed, he would come by to hang out. She wrestled with the idea of going to him, but they'd just left each other an hour prior, and she couldn't think of a good excuse to see him again. Rick, on the other hand, was comfortable enough to know he didn't need one.

And thanks to that, ten minutes after his text, she had dropped off her sleeping son at his place, and the two of them continued downstairs in just their bathing suits, toting towels and beers and phones alike, relieved to find the space empty when they arrived. The ritzy infinity pool, overlooking the ocean and backlit by just a few strategically placed in-ground lights made for an unexpectedly romantic setting.

"How's the water?" Michonne wondered, observing Rick from behind as he took the first step in while she set down their belongings. She was quickly realizing that she had a strange affection for his naked back, often fixating on the way his muscles contracted when he moved. And that bowlegged gait didn't help matters. He was just sexy from behind. "Do I need to turn up the temperature?"

"No, it's perfect," he nodded, continuing to submerge himself. It was just the right match for the night air – warm, not hot. It was his turn to watch as she kicked off her sandals and sauntered around the perimeter to the pool steps. He innately bit his lip at the vision of her in a simple black bikini with its strapless bandeau top and Brazilian cut bottoms that left very little to the imagination. The way her ass jiggled a bit when she walked, the way her outie belly-button looked like an actual button, it all made him smile. And she was grinning too as she joined him, probably because she knew just how good she looked, and enjoyed that she was driving him a little crazy. "What is it?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "What's that smile?"

"I dunno. I always smile with you," she spoke quietly, gazing at him, his blue eyes twinkling like stars under the moonlight. "Don't I?"

"Yeah, I guess that's true," he granted, wading through waist-high water to meet her in the slightly deeper end. "Made the trip worth it all on its own."

She started to blush then, her entire body feeling hot despite the water that covered most of it; her smile turning bashful as she allowed Rick to back her against the pool wall. "How do you manage to give me butterflies every time you talk?"

"I dunno," he grinned, both happily and smugly. "I didn't know I did." His eyes danced around her face, realizing her smile did the same to him. "But I I get 'em from you anytime you do anything, so I think it's a fair exchange."

"Goddamn it," she chuckled in a whisper, his twang sounding like a favorite song to her ears. She felt that familiar flutter in her stomach as his hard body came into contact with hers, his arms pinning her in place as he gripped the pool's edge. Her body made the move before her mind could stop her, wrapping her long legs around his waist, bringing him closer. So close, there was barely any water between them. She licked her lips and stared at his, enjoying that he wasn't wasting any time here.

"I've been waiting two days to kiss you again," he confessed, his eyes flitting to her wettened mouth. Her plump lips had him practically salivating. "May I?"

She didn't need him to ask, because the answer was always yes, but she appreciated that he did. He was careful about pushing past those boundaries they'd created throughout their friendship. He was thoughtful. It was things like that that made her fall a little bit more in love with him every day they were together. And she was coming to terms with the fact that she was in love with this man. Whether it was 'still' or 'again,' she wasn't sure, but it was pure and simple truth at that moment.

Michonne answered him wordlessly by pulling him in for said kiss, her eyes closing as she let her lips cover his. He let out a quiet moan, surprised by her assertiveness, which only compelled her to deepen it, gently pushing her tongue into his hot mouth. She loved that he unabashedly expressed his pleasure audibly – something most men seemed hesitant about. She could only imagine what it would feel like to hear his moans against her ear during sex, breathing her name as he fucked her, his grunts with every thrust. Just the thought made her wet, and she was glad they were in water, keeping her sudden arousal a secret.

Rick wasn't quite so lucky, though, feeling his dick practically throbbing as it grew into an erection between Michonne's thighs. She would feel it soon, if she didn't already, but he didn't care, didn't stop. It only made it all the more intense for him as his tongue wrestled with hers, turning their kiss into a full make out, the sound of their lips smacking and sucking paired with that of the water gently slapping against their skin. He could feel her fingers in his hair, twirling in his curls like they belonged there. His hands were meanwhile planted on her hips, but as the seconds turned to minutes, he realized they were finding their way lower, slipping into her tiny bikini to feel her flesh, gently squeezing her backside the way he'd been wanting to for years now. He inhaled her, along with the smell of chlorine and her seemingly natural lavender scent, and exhaled himself each time their lips parted for gasps of air.

Michonne felt tinges of both disappointment and relief when his fingers left her panties and moved up her back, her tiny frame fitting in her hands like he'd been holding her forever. His lips were intoxicating, making her feel dizzy and giggly, and his hands on her body only intensified the feelings. But an unexpected nervousness came with that, she realized. And it was confusing to want something as much as she did and still be scared of it at the same time. It felt wrong and right, like a fantasy and reality all at once.

Without warning, Rick pulled back from the kiss, breathless as he gazed at Michonne. "You okay?" he wondered, attempting to study her face in the dim light.

She nodded, confused, licking her lips of the taste of him. "Why'd you stop?"

He shook his head, unsure what to say. She was the one who'd eased up first – he could feel it, her mind go elsewhere and then their kiss went with it. "Just thought maybe we should slow down," he offered as an excuse for them both, an awkward smile punctuating his sentence.

Michonne smiled too, recognizing that maybe, hopefully, he felt the same way she did. Apprehensive. She cupped his cheek with her wet hand, leaving him with another short kiss. She didn't want him to move, enjoying the way he felt between her legs. Or more specifically, the bulge in his trunks that didn't seem to be going away, pressed against her pussy. It wouldn't take much for them to just push her panties to the side and get things going. Just get it over with…

"I'm gonna get my beer," Rick announced, escaping her embrace. "You want yours?"

"I'm good," she shook her head, her eyes staying on him as he effortlessly climbed from the pool to grab his drink and then jump back in. "We should've brought some food with us," she called out to him as he took a moment to open the bottle.

"You and your food," he smirked, finding his way back to her. "I still don't know how you look like this when you love food as much as you do."

She smiled at the compliment, even if it was at the expense of making fun of her, too. "I still exercise, you know," she submitted, staring him up and down as he planted himself back in front of her. "Hell, I have to."

"Well I exercise too, and I don't look like you." He was fairly certain the muscles in her stomach had their own muscles. "Does your body know you're gonna be forty in a couple months?"

"Oh god," she giggled. "Stop."

It wasn't lost on him the way she would often turn timid when he gave her a compliment, especially a physical one. Avoiding his gaze, as though the very concept made her uneasy. "You can play shy if you want to," he teased, drinking from his beer between statements, "but I'm just stating facts."

"I'm not playing shy," she promised. She posted against the wall again, her elbows rested on the concrete to keep her upright, allowing Rick to stand between her floating legs. "I'm still getting used to the idea of you looking at me that way. And being able to freely look at you that way," she added. She held out her hand, wanting a sip of his drink.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" he asked, handing the mostly full bottle to her.

"Of course."

He paused before continuing, stealing a moment to contemplate whether he really wanted to put it out there. But he decided that he needed to, because it was bothering him. "Do you… still think of me as Lori's husband?"

She cocked her head to the side, wondering where he was going with this question. He'd been so reserved for the past couple of days – was this leading to the reason why? "I mean… yeah," she shrugged hesitantly. "Sometimes."

He nodded in response, figuring that would be her answer. He could feel it.

"You don't still see me as Mike's wife?"

"Well you are still his wife," he smiled a bit sarcastically as he accepted his beer back. "And even so, not really. It doesn't hold me back from you."

"Well yeah, that never held you back from me," she grinned playfully. She hooked her leg around the back of his thigh in an attempt to bring him closer to her. "Do you think I'm holding back?"

"I dunno," he said, thinking that maybe it was a silly thing to question when they were hanging out half naked in the middle of the night. "Maybe it's in my head."

She nodded back, accepting his answer as she watched him gulp down more of his drink, seemingly in the interest of avoiding her gaze. She didn't know what else to say, so she decided to change the subject. "So I had a chat with Jessie today," she divulged, her voice going quieter as if someone – Jessie, specifically – would somehow hear them.

Rick stared back at her, waiting for another wry joke about her being his girlfriend, but instead, she seemed to be waiting for him to respond. "Okay…"

"It was nice," she shrugged again. "We talked about divorce, and particularly, dealing with the endless battle that is co-parenting." She smiled when she felt his hand softly land on her leg, his eyes on her now, intently listening to her speak. "I didn't appreciate it until we spoke, but I really needed someone with that shared experience."

"Her husband was a doctor, too," he commented with realization.

"Right," Michonne nodded. "And she was talking about how she pushes her sons to have a relationship with their dad, and I think that's… I dunno, noble. Maybe I've been going about it all wrong trying to protect Andre from his terrible father."

Rick's eyebrows raised in surprise, recalling that just a week ago, she espoused the exact opposite stance. "You sure about this?"

"I'm not sure about anything," she retorted, shaking her head. She requested the beer again, grinning when he obliged. "But I owe it to him to try, right?"

"Yeah. Of course," Rick nodded. "Probably even to yourself."

"So. I've been thinking about… inviting Mike to come stay here with us," she carefully revealed, scanning his expression for his opinion before he could voice it. "But I don't know."

"What don't you know?" he wondered.

"I don't know… if it's a good idea. I don't want him to ruin the dynamic of the group," she frowned, stealing another gulp before handing it back. "But right now, he's just this weird outlier, and even if I didn't invite him or even necessarily want him here, he was a part of this. I mean, he's always gonna be in my life, so maybe it's better if I stop fighting it, you know?"

Rick let out a small sigh, understanding her dilemma, even if he wasn't sure that he agreed. Because even if he didn't, he couldn't say so. He'd be an asshole to opine that shouldn't let her son's father into his life. If it were he and Lori in the same situation, she would encourage it. "You should do what you think is best," he offered, still affectionately rubbing her leg. "No one can fault you for that."

"Oh, I'm sure someone will," she smirked. "But I think I'd just rather try too hard than not enough."

Rick smiled, although a bit gloomily, at her insight. If they'd done that twenty years ago, maybe they wouldn't be where they were now. "So is he staying with you and Andre?" he asked, the disappointment in his voice apparent.

"No," she was quick to assure him, standing from her position so that she could face him, look him in the eye. "This doesn't change anything with us, Rick."

"All right," he nodded, forcing himself to believe that.

"Daryl isn't using his villa anymore, apparently, so I'm gonna put him in there."

He quirked an eyebrow again, while his gaze flickered downward, fixated on her body as it inched its way closer to his. "Where is Daryl stayin'?"

"I'll give you one guess," she grinned, tickled by the fact that she had information no one else did. Or at least, she thought no one else did.

"Not with Carol." As she nodded in confirmation, his jaw went slack as he searched for words. "So they're…"

"They are." With a devilish grin still on her face, she locked her wet arm around his neck, her fingers combing through his curls as she waited for him to kiss her again. "I don't know if it's a secret, but I haven't told anyone."

"Except for me..."

"Except for you."

Rick smiled genuinely this time as her soft chest and hard stomach pressed against his for the second time that night. She felt so good, so perfect in his arms. He once again forced himself to ignore everything else on his mind as he backed her against the wall, sitting his near-empty bottle on the ground and hoisted her up. He stared into her eyes as he took her face into his hand, water dripping down both of them as he went in for the kiss. It was more eager than the first, fervid as he sucked at her impossibly soft lips like a vacuum, his tongue urgently lapping at hers as he squeezed the underside of her thighs.

Michonne felt her stomach doing backflips as they explored each other's mouths, Rick's hands fondling her lower body. She could feel her top slipping down as she shifted against the siding, while his fingers slid past the elastic of her bikini, grazing her slick slit. She moaned at the welcome surprise, her entire body clenching in response. She gently pulled at the hair at his nape as she felt him touch her clit, one finger deftly stroking it, another slipping inside her, while his lips left hers to suck at her neck. Was this really happening? Rick fingering her, on the verge of giving her an orgasm? Moments away from having sex with this man she'd known as a friend for twenty years? This was really happening. "Rick," she quietly purred, her short nails digging into his shoulder as he stroked her. "What if someone sees us?"

With a light groan, he pulled back, withdrawing his hand and his tongue, though she kept her legs locked around him. He took care not to look as she replaced her top, but he still spoke, softly, careful not to let his frustration get the best of him. "Is this a secret?" he asked. "I mean whatever 'this' is."

"No," she frowned, though she recognized she wasn't sure of that answer as it came out of her mouth. "I don't know."

"I don't mind if it is," he said, licking his lips as he caught her eye again. "But it'd be nice to know who we're hiding from."

"Just because I don't wanna fuck you in my pool, we're hiding now?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

She stared at him, baffled by his sudden change in tone. It'd been like that the past two days – feeling her up one minute and then bordering on cold the next. The energy between them was off. The chemistry seemed to be fading, and she wasn't sure why. "What is it, Rick? What's the problem?"

"You're asking me that?"

"Well you're the one being passive-aggressive here, so…"

"I'm just following your lead, Michonne." He chuckled as he backed away, as it was clear they wouldn't be ending things on a good note here. "You don't notice how you're the one that keeps finding reasons to put this on pause?" he pressed. "First we've got Mike, which… I get. Then last night, it's 'dinner', but Jessie shows up and you just… leave. Now it's somethin' else, and you tell me you're bringing Mike here, and I don't know what to do with all these mixed signals. Your words are sayin' one thing, but your actions are telling me somethin' different."

"I didn't realize…" She shook her head apologetically, staring at him, seeing the frustration written on his face. "I just – I'm trying to do this right, whatever that means. Whatever that entails." She exhaled sharply, acknowledging her own aggravation with it all. "I don't know what to do about Mike. I don't even know what to do about Jessie. Because whether you care or not, her feelings are wrapped up in this, too. And I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Yeah, you never do," he sighed beneath his breath. He flipped his hair out of his face and stared up at the compound, ready to just head back upstairs at that point.

"What was that?"

"I said you never do," he repeated himself more forcefully. "You never want anyone to get hurt, even if it means hurting yourself."

She chuckled sadly, thinking he was probably right about that. But she wasn't going to allow him to make her the bad guy for being a good person. "I'm not trying to play games with you, Rick. I asked you to bear with me."

"And I will," he promised, his tone softening. "But through what? You tell me about everyone else, how they're feeling, trying to protect everyone, but what about you, Michonne?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "And I keep tryin' to pinpoint what's wrong. What's holding you back from me? But for the life of me, I don't know. Because I think you want this," he nodded. "I see you making the effort. I felt... somethin' – a lot of things – when we kissed. But then, it disappears," he gestured his hand waving. "It just fades outta nowhere, and maybe it's because you don't want this. Or maybe it's because you're scared. Maybe Mike came along and you realized what was really happening here. I don't know. Maybe you don't either. But I don't wanna spend what's left of our vacation pretending."

Michonne stared at him, at a bit of a loss for words. She wondered whether she was imagining things as raindrops began to fall, plopping into the pool around them, thick enough that she felt them hitting her already wet head. And all she could think was that it was comically fitting for this shitty moment where everything was falling apart. "Well," she finally spoke, wiping her face – rain substituting the tears that she refused to cry. "I'm sorry I dared to not have everything figured out. I believed you when you said we had our whole lives for this, and I guess that was my mistake." She nodded with the realization that maybe this didn't work out with them twenty years ago because it simply wasn't supposed to. "Noted."


	12. My Life Would Suck Without You

_June 2006_.

"You all right, man?"

Rick just slightly turned back to the sound of his best friend's voice, confirming for himself that he was alone before responding. "Yeah, I'm fine," he nodded, standing from the seat he'd taken on the venue steps.

Shane scoffed at his answer as he strolled down the steps to join him. "Then what you doin' out here alone?" he wondered, moving behind Rick to brush away any traces of grime from his suit. "You know Michonne'd have a fit if she saw you sittin' in dirt."

"I would've wiped it off," he promised, though he made sure to stand still until Shane finished. "Is it time yet?"

"Nah, still another hour, last I heard."

With a sigh, Rick nodded as his friend shifted beside him, the two of them staring out at the splendid view that was the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. It was a gorgeous day, even with the humid high temperature - the blue sky offsetting the myriad of colorful flowers surrounding them with the city's skyline as the backdrop. It was all so irritatingly perfect.

"So you're not gonna say anything?" Shane pressed when the silence became conspicuous. "You're just… out here?"

"It was chaotic in there," he shrugged. "Just needed some air."

"So it has nothin' to do with the fact that Michonne's gettin' married?"

Rick's brows knitted at the implication, but he quickly shook his head in denial. "No..." His voice was almost inaudible, nearly taken over by the breeze.

"All right," Shane immediately backed off, careful not to make him feel any worse. But it was obvious  _something_  was wrong, and he knew it wasn't doing him any favors to pretend otherwise. "But don't forget how well I know you, man. Ain't no reason to hide from me."

"I dunno what you're talkin' about," he insisted, clearing his throat as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm happy for her."

"And sad for yourself?" he prompted, staring at the side of his face from behind his sunglasses. "A little?"

Rick chuckled a bit nervously because he didn't know where Shane was getting all these assumptions from. Was it that obvious? Or was this just the territory that came with knowing someone most of your life?

"Listen, I don't know what it was with y'all," Shane went on, answering his question. "Thick as thieves one minute, barely talkin' the next. But I know how much you liked her. And it's all right if you feel like shit on a day like today."

He nodded, but was hesitant to confirm or deny anything when he didn't even know what was wrong himself. Not really. He was happily married – for nearly six years now – so this hangup he had with Michonne doing the same was silly. Selfish, even. She closed the door on them a long time ago, and he essentially locked it when he married Lori. This should have been a non-issue by now. "Is there somewhere in there we can get a drink yet?"

"Not 'til the reception," Shane guessed, looking back inside to see bridesmaids scurrying back and forth through the hall. "Mike might have somethin' in his room, but I doubt it."

Rick smirked, thinking Mike was about the last person he wanted to see at that moment. It was bad enough he'd be standing there with a front row view of the two of them exchanging vows. He didn't want to have to hang out with the guy beforehand, too. "I'm gonna go find Lori," he declared quietly.

"You're gonna go to your wife like this?" he asked before he could escape. "Lookin' like some sad puppy that can't find its way home? You know she's gonna wonder what's wrong with you."

He sighed in reply, mostly because he knew Shane was right. He hadn't seen her since the rehearsal dinner, so his dour mood would be all the more apparent. But he wanted to see his son and knew he'd be with her. That face, that five-year-old innocence had a way of making him feel like the happiest man on earth. "I'll be back," he told Shane, already trudging into the venue before he could say anything else.

Inside, the brilliantly decorated banquet hall was bursting with energy as people he did and didn't recognize hurried around in preparation. Ordinarily, the yellow-centered theme would have lifted his spirits as the color always reminded him of Michonne, but now, it only seemed to highlight his bad mood. Despite Shane's good advice, he scanned the room for his wife, but settled for Andrea when he spotted her with one of the hairstylists, both of them attempting to hold her curls in place as they scurried through the room. "Andrea!" he called after them.

"Kinda busy here, Rick," she replied, not stopping.

"Just wanna know if you've seen Lori."

"Last I saw her, she was with Michonne in her room," she sent back.

He let out another long sigh as he checked his watch, wondering whether his mom had made it there yet. But knowing her penchant for being late, it was unlikely she'd gotten there early. "All right," he nodded to himself, steeling himself to face both Lori and Michonne. He reluctantly proceeded down the corridor to the dressing rooms, settling on the big door at the end, knocking gently before taking a deep breath.

"Yeah?" Michonne's gleeful voice responded.

"It's Rick," he said from behind the closed door. "Just lookin' for Lori."

The door almost immediately swung open, and he expected to find his wife meeting him in her goldenrod-colored dress and full face of freshly-done makeup. Instead, it was the blushing bride, literally stunning in all her wedding day glory. Her simple, sleek white dress made her look more like a model than a bride; especially paired with her five-day new haircut, making her exquisite face the focal point of the glamorous look. God, she was beautiful in every application of the word. It took his breath away.

"Hey," she smiled when he didn't speak. He looked quite dapper, though, in his three-piece suit – the gray of it made his eyes look the same color, causing her to stare a little longer than she normally would have. He was so handsome. "Lori's on a hunt for some alcohol," she eventually said, remembering why he was there.

He nodded, fixated on her red-painted lips as she spoke. The spell only broke as she turned away from him, headed back into her dressing room, leaving him to follow. "I was actually lookin' for some of that myself," he noted nervously. He was unsure whether to leave the door open, so he was relieved when it closed on its own. "You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way."

"Well thank you," she beamed, planting herself in front of her mirror for the fifth time in ten minutes. She remained unsure about the entire aesthetic. "I don't know what I was thinking cutting off all my hair a week before my wedding."

"You were probably thinking you'd look like this," he smiled softly.

Appreciating the compliment, she gazed at him in her mirror, but observed how quickly his smile faded when he thought she wasn't looking. "You okay, Rick?"

He gaze flitted to hers, feeling like he'd been caught stealing. "Yeah," he said, his voice turning gravelly as he croaked out his lie. "I mean I'll be fine."

"Which is to say you're not fine now?"

"I'm a little… I dunno. Emotional, I guess," he admitted, nodding at the floor as she turned to face him. "It sounds crazy to say, but we got here and it hit me like a brick that you were gettin' married today, and... I dunno." He shook his head, unable to find words that adequately expressed how he felt.

Michonne let out a shaky exhale at his unexpected admission. It would've been a lie to say it didn't cross her mind a couple of times throughout her engagement – what did Rick really think about it all? Did he feel those pangs of longing as she sat in his living room, week after week, planning her wedding? The same ones she felt as she stood beside Lori on their wedding day? A residual stinging feeling as he realized he maybe should've said or done something different back in college? Yeah, she knew what that was like. "I think it's normal," she spoke softly as she approached him, her heels echoing against the marble floor. "To think about a past love on their wedding day... To come up with a list of regrets when we think it's too late."

Rick's gaze immediately lifted, her choice of words catching his ear.

"I mean, not that we were in love," she corrected herself; lying to herself.

He nodded awkwardly as he gazed at her splendid face. Shimmering with makeup but glowing with happiness. She looked like a princess getting her fairytale ending, and that mattered so much more than his resurfacing feelings. They'd been dormant for years now, and he was certain he could push them back down. For her sake, if nothing else. "Whatever it is we had… or didn't have back then, I love you today," he offered earnestly. "And I'm happy for you."

She rolled her eyes in response, solely because she knew that she was verging on ruining her makeup as she felt the familiar threat of tears. But she smiled as she took his hand and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you, Rick."

He gently kissed the side of her face as they embraced, inhaling her sweet, expensive scent, basking in her arms around him as if it were the last time they'd ever touch. He exhaled slowly and hesitantly as she pulled back, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek as well. "I should get out of your way," he decided, looking around the small, cluttered room.

"You're welcome to stay," she countered, wiping her lipstick from his cheek. "Although I'm sure it'll be crowded again in another five minutes."

"No, I should go," he nodded. He stared into her eyes, brimming with everything he loved about her, and lined in turquoise, for just a second too long and then looked away. "I'll see you out there."

"Okay," she relented, watching him intently as he walked away and it felt like watching a past life leaving her, even though he would undoubtedly be part of her future. Still, she kept watching as he reached for the doorknob and it pushed open before he could turn it, his wife nearly running into him.

"Oh. Hey," Lori greeted him, surprised to see him there; even more surprised by his seemingly glum expression.

"Hey," he replied, noting the bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. "I was just lookin' for you."

"And I was just looking for this," she declared, proudly holding up her findings before offering the bottle to Michonne. But their lack of response wasn't lost on her. In fact, the silence was speaking volumes. She could only imagine what they'd been discussing before she arrived. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he returned casually as he stood in the threshold. "Where's Carl?"

"He's in the other room with Mike, eating his lunch."

He nodded, his eyes drifting to Michonne one more time – the last time he'd see her as a single woman, as it were – before landing on Lori again. "I'll see y'all in a bit."

Michonne smiled in his direction, though not at him, specifically. And not in the full way she would've had they been alone. It was a gentle, sympathetic smile meant to simply say,  _It'll be okay_. No matter how many times they'd inadvertently caused one another heartbreak over the years, they always got to come back. They would be okay.

* * *

_August 2008_.

"Goddamn it," Michonne sighed as the sound of her doorbell echoed throughout her home. She picked herself up from the floor with a groan, using the commode for assistance before flushing down the bowl of water. She wiped her mouth and adjusted her t-shirt as she headed out of the bathroom, plodding tiredly down her steps. "Carl, your dad's here," she called out, not entirely sure where the seven-year-old had gone. His lack of response should've alarmed her, but she was feeling too terrible to actually worry.

"Okay," he eventually answered, sounding rather distracted.

She shook her head as she made it to her front door, swinging back the heavy wood to reveal Rick, looking like the epitome of the casual Sunday morning in his plaid shirt and jeans. "Hey."

"Hey," he nodded, stepping into her palatial home behind her. He noticed she was still in her pajamas, which he thought was unlike Michonne outside of holidays or sickness. "I went to the back door, but nobody answered."

"Sorry, I was upstairs."

Rick squinted at her answer, knowing she could usually hear down there from her bedroom. Everything seemed just a little bit off with her. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she chirped, not detecting his concern. "He's up there reading. Supposedly."

" _Diary of a Wimpy Kid_?"

"Indeed."

"Must've been an easy weekend for you then," he chuckled, following her up the steps.

She started to reply, feeling a laugh at the tip of her tongue, but it was quickly – urgently – replaced with the need to throw up. She paused to gauge which bathroom she could make it to in time and then took off running without another word.

"Michonne," Rick called for her, confused and concerned by her beeline. He went after her, albeit a bit reluctantly as she disappeared into her bedroom, but he figured propriety wasn't exactly of the essence at the moment. He continued the short maze to her bathroom where he found her already on her knees, heaving into the toilet as he reached her. "Shit," he whispered, dropping his car keys to assist. The nook where the toilet sat was small, but he stepped in regardless, gently stroking her back as she vomited mercilessly.

Michonne let out another frustrated groan as she pulled back from the commode and settled into the floor. "I'm  _so_  sorry," she said, watching him reach over her to flush. "I did not mean for you to see that."

"Drink your water," he ignored her, nodding to the bottle he'd noticed beside her. If anything, he felt shitty for having her watching Carl all weekend when she obviously wasn't up to it. He turned into the rest of the giant, lavish bathroom, finding the linen closet and grabbing a washcloth. "How long have you been feeling like this?" he asked as he dampened the cloth with warm water.

"On and off for a couple of weeks," she revealed, figuring that would give him the answer he was really looking for.

"I see." He returned to her, taking a seat on the floor beside her before handing over the towel. "So I guess we're not dealin' with the flu here."

She smirked at his use of 'we' just as she wiped her mouth. "No, not quite."

"Have you taken a test yet?"

"I've taken four," she answered him evenly. "One every day since Thursday."

Rick found himself smirking too, because that sounded exactly like Michonne. Prudent to nearly a fault. "They all said the same thing?"

"Clear and resounding positives on all four," she confirmed. She rested her head against the wall, recognizing that what she was about to say would be her first time saying it out loud. "I'm pregnant."

He chuckled at the way she said it, her sing-song tone sounding sarcastic. "Well shit, I don't know whether to congratulate you or not."

"No, it's a good thing," she promised, gulping down more water to rid the terrible taste in her mouth. "I just feel like shit right now, so…"

"Understandable," he nodded, his gaze lingering on their outstretched legs, her pretty bare feet next to his ugly old boots. Life was like that – pretty and ugly all at once. "So I take it you haven't told Lori yet since I didn't hear any shrieking over the weekend."

"I… haven't told anyone yet," she intimated, looking up at him. She noticed his stare flicker, but he remained stoic, seemingly unaffected.

"Not even Mike?" he wondered quietly.

"Not even Mike." She let out a small sigh, realizing it probably sounded insane that after three days, she'd yet to tell her husband they were having a baby. "I think I needed some time to process it," she added guiltily.

Rick wasn't sure what to think; why it was a strange point of pride for him to be the first person she told. But it was. It made him smile genuinely for the first time all weekend. "I'm surprised he didn't notice you've been sick."

"It's been around the same time every day, so either I'm at work or he is," she shrugged. "This kid doesn't play."

"Lori didn't really have the morning sickness," he recalled, thinking back nearly eight years ago. Seemed like another lifetime now. "I remember her body just ached a lot."

"Yeah, I'd trade this for that any day of the week." She took another few small gulps of her water as she felt that familiar, frustrating urge again. "One of my partners has a boy and a girl," she said between sips, "and the boy was easy, breezy… even the labor took like four hours. But the girl…" She shook her head, thinking back to the days where her friend spent most of the workday in her bathroom. "Just watching her go through it made me miserable."

"So we think it's a girl," he surmised, stealing a glimpse of her face. She seemed stable for the time being, so he rested his head against the wall, too. He was exhausted, and the thought of going back home only exacerbated it. "I wanted Carl to be a girl," he admitted softly. "I dunno why."

"So she could have you wrapped around her little finger?" she smirked knowingly.

"Yeah, probably so," he granted with a small chuckle. "I'm predictable in that way."

Michonne's smile faded as she recognized that Rick didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood. For a typically jovial guy, he seemed downright brooding at the moment, which made her sad. But then, she knew things weren't all that great at home, so it shouldn't have surprised her. She could only imagine that whatever he was feeling, Lori was feeling it ten times worse. She needed to call her later to check up on her. "How was your weekend?" she quietly questioned, looking up at him, focusing on his closed eyes; his long, pretty eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks.

"Long," he yawned, shaking his head. "I had to keep finding reasons to get outta the house."

"Is that why you came instead of Lori?"

"Honestly, yes," he scoffed. "You ever driven around the block a few extra times, or sat in the garage for a few extra minutes, just so you can avoid comin' in the house?"

"I can't say that I have," she frowned, worried. "That doesn't sound healthy…"

"It's not," he laughed in spite of himself. "It's terrible. But that's what it feels like when you know there's a fight on the other side of that door. Or even just the tension of being around someone you can't really talk to."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, feeling empathy for both her friends. "But you know, you have something you get true fulfillment from. You wake up and get to go to something you love, something that makes you feel useful for ten hours a day, making deals and… whatever you and Shane do," she chuckled. "But Lori doesn't have that. She doesn't have anything to fill her days with, and you don't really seem to care."

"Of course I care," he retorted defensively. "I asked her to come be our accountant, right at the start, because I knew she wanted something. But she didn't want that, so…"

"So you got your little ego bruised and you stopped giving a shit, Rick."

"That's not-." He stopped to think about the course of events, because he didn't want to put forth a false argument. It was hard for him to say for sure, because the firm had definitely taken up most of his time and capacity for caring about much else. When he and Shane started their business, they did it because they knew land development was a lucrative field – especially in Atlanta. What he didn't realize was that its startup would be as time-consuming as it was profitable. There were several months where Lori was the only participant in their home. He thought he'd made up for that by providing for their family, but maybe he did deserve the blame for what was happening in his home now. "It's not that I don't give a shit," he finally spoke sincerely. "I mean, it did feel like she didn't believe in us, in what we were tryin' to do. But I didn't stop caring because of that, I don't think. I just… we started makin' money, and I didn't think she needed… more anymore. I thought that was the dream – to not  _have_ to work. But I guess I never really thought about it the way you framed it," he allowed.

"Her day-to-day is essentially waiting for you and Carl to come home so she can feel useful again," she further explained. "And whether you meant to or not, I think it certainly feels like, for her, you just dismissed her issues."

Rick sighed again as he shook his head against the wall. "I don't know how it came to this."

"You two used to fight all the time," Michonne reminded him, her voice lowering as she felt that urge to retch bubbling back to the surface. "You'll be fine."

"Yeah, we fought in college," he chuckled. "Not now. Not… eight years into a marriage."

"Jesus, how the fuck have you been married that long," she groaned. She pulled herself back up, making her crawl toward the toilet, just in case. "When did we get old?"

He chuckled at her statement, but the concern in his voice was apparent as he asked, "You okay?"

"Another round is coming up," she nodded.

"I've felt old for a while now," he admitted, keeping his watchful eyes on her. "Having a kid does that to you, apparently."

"Oh, great," she returned flatly. "Can't wait."

"I found a couple of gray hairs last month, and I nearly lost my fuckin' mind."

Michonne giggled in response, as she could only imagine. "You're not even 32 yet," she snorted.

"That's what I'm sayin'," he shook his head. "It was terrifying."

"On the bright side, I'm sure you'll look great with gray hair."

"Or like an old man."

"I personally find it quite sexy when men start to get the flecks of gray in the facial hair," she offered. "Maybe you should grow a beard again. That was a good look."

"Lori's not a fan," he shook his head. "Although I guess if I were gonna do it, now's a good time…"

"Don't make things worse," she managed to quickly get out before hurling into the commode for the fourth time that morning. And of course the sight of her breakfast regurgitated just made her want to vomit again. "Shit," she sighed, reaching up to flush once more. "This is old already."

"Just keep in mind that there's a person waiting at the other end of all this. And he or she is gonna make it all worth it."

"Right," she exhaled again as she reclaimed her seat beside him. She rested her head against his shoulder, and her tired body followed suit, leaning into him for support, and somehow, he made sitting on the hard tile floor feel comfortable. "We should probably be worried that Carl hasn't said a peep since I told him you were here."

Rick smirked in reply, as she was probably right. Definitely not his finest parenting skills on display at the moment. "Well if you left him with that book, I doubt he even remembers you said it."

"True," she granted, drinking from her water bottle again. She started to speak again, wanting to tell him that she appreciated him being willing to sit there and bear witness to her rather disgusting ailment – what a friend – but she was interrupted by the alarm system chiming, signaling that one of the downstairs doors had opened.

"Is that Carl," Rick wondered, the two of them already simultaneously scrambling up from the floor to check on his son.

Naturally, Michonne was moving slower than her usual, and she retreated from the bedroom just behind Rick, only to find Mike making his way to the foyer of their home. He stopped at the bottom of the steps as his wife came into view, and she sent a strained smile his way, trying not to let on that she was still nauseated, knowing he would try to diagnose her unease. "Hey, baby."

"Hey, babe," he greeted her, unsurprised to see Rick with her, given his car was out front. "Hey, man."

"Hey," Rick nodded, simply relieved his kid hadn't managed to get out of the house.

"Carl's leavin' us already?" he asked.

"Yeah," he drawled, looking back to the room he knew Carl was in. "School starts next Monday, so we've got doctor's appointments and all that all week."

He nodded in cognizance, but couldn't help but notice the curious expression on Michonne's face; especially after hearing the two of them scurrying across the house once they heard the back door open. He'd even called her phone as he drove up, but she was obviously too busy with something to answer. "My shift ended early, so I thought I'd come and try to get a nap and some lunch with you and Carl," he submitted to her blank stare. "And Rick?" he was asking, looking to their friend for his answer. "If you wanna stay…"

As tempting as that sounded, just to get an extra hour or so away from his home, Rick knew that Michonne probably needed to be alone with her husband. "Nah, I'm gonna take Carl and get out of your hair," he declined. "Thank you guys for entertaining him all weekend."

"Anytime," Michonne responded emphatically. She didn't want her pregnancy to keep him from calling her if they needed her to take him. "You know he's no trouble."

"We haven't done our doubles thing in a while," Mike suddenly remembered as he stared up at the two of them; how they looked like a couple standing side-by-side and he was the third wheel here. "We should do dinner or lunch sometime. If Lori's up for it."

Michonne frowned at her husband's suggestion, knowing she'd informed him of Rick and Lori's current marital woes. "We should do a big cookout for Labor Day," she said instead. "Invite everyone…"

Rick nodded, but he was ready to get out of there before Mike could insist on his idea instead. They used to have regular double dates, but the more they all settled into their careers, the less those happened, and he was okay with that. Especially now, when he and Lori weren't doing so great. "Just let us know."

"Well it was good to see you," Mike nodded back. "Hopefully, next time, I'll be here, too."

Rick's eyes narrowed, wondering whether his bad mood was interpreting him the wrong way, or was Mike the one being an asshole? His wife was standing there sick, and he'd yet to notice, but he obviously hadn't taken too kindly to them being upstairs together. "Yeah, hopefully," he answered as neutrally as he could before walking away.

* * *

_February 2014._

It just after 11:00pm as Rick walked into his warm home – cautiously, that is, as the quietness told him that likely everyone inside it was asleep. His body and mind were drained, having been up for a couple of days straight, but force of habit sent him meandering into the kitchen to find… something. Whatever it was, he was certain it wouldn't be in the refrigerator, but it was the better than the option of heading upstairs to be alone with his thoughts.

"Rick?"

"It's me," he softly called back, knowing it was Michonne. He grabbed himself a Capri Sun and shut the fridge door before going toward the sound of her voice in the dark house. He found her in the living room with a sleeping Judith splayed across her lap. "Sorry I didn't say anything," he greeted her. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was drifting off," she admitted with a small smile, keeping her voice low. "What are you doing here?"

"Dr. Harvey sent me home," he sighed, pulling off his coat. "She said I can't do anything 'til Lori's out of recovery, so I should get some rest."

Michonne nodded, but she knew Rick was going to do anything but. He hadn't slept in days – months, when it came to good sleep – so sending him home wasn't going to do much good. "Come sit then," she suggested, patting the space beside her. "You do look terrible."

"Oh, thanks," he smirked, following her instruction. "How long has she been out?"

"I think around the third showing of  _Frozen_ , so a couple hours ago," she nodded. "Carl went upstairs around 8:00, and Andre went with him when he realized Judith wasn't kidding about watching this movie all night."

Rick chuckled genuinely at the tidbit, as the kids seemed to be the only joy they'd experienced around there the past few months. "They were good?"

"As always."

"Shane said he'd take them to school and pick 'em up tomorrow, so we can both be at the hospital," he yawned, beginning to kick off his shoes.

"You told me that this morning," she reminded him with a small smile. "You said Carl has a late day, so you were gonna take him to the hospital first…"

"Shit," he chuckled again, accepting that he was finally losing what was left of his mind. It felt like the world stopped when they got Lori's breast cancer diagnosis, and he was no longer sure of what was real versus whatever fiction he had in his head. Because once his wife got sick, he wished it was all some bad dream he could wake up from.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk," she suggested, her voice rather thick with grogginess herself. "You should at least try to sleep."

"I should take Judith up first," he agreed, forcing himself from the comfortable sofa cushions. "You need anything while I'm up?"

"Yeah, could you turn up the heat?"

"Michonne, it's hot as hell down here," he whispered, carefully retrieving Judith from her lap. "You need to get that checked out."

"I think you're the one that needs to get checked out," she shot back. "It's freezing."

"All right," he relented, holding onto his lightly snoring daughter. "I'll be back."

She watched with a sympathetic smile as he shuffled off to the kitchen before the two of them disappeared from her sight. She noticed the juice pack left behind on the couch and decided to take it for herself, figuring Rick wouldn't mind, though not particularly caring if he did. She would've preferred alcohol, wanting it to numb her worried mind, but she was too tired to get up and find any. She sucked down the cherry juice all at once as she stared at the blank TV, waiting for Rick to return. Thinking of Lori and what kind of pain she must've been in at that moment. Chemo, now surgery, then radiation soon after. It was unrelenting. And unfair. Just watching it happen, standing by her side as she went through it all was harrowing enough – she could only imagine what it must have felt like.

She picked up her phone to torture herself by looking through pictures of the two of them, but paused as she took note of the time and date. 11:24 on Thursday, February 13. In other words, 36 minutes from her 37th birthday. "Fuck," she whispered to herself. She'd already decided she didn't care about her birthday this year – not that she ever did much, not after the big 3-0. On one hand, it felt especially pointless during this dark time in their lives, but on the other, maybe now was the time to celebrate life instead of ignoring it as it passed them by.

"You know what I just realized," Rick declared, returning to the living room with his arms full. "It's your birthday tomorrow."

She chuckled at the way they so often managed to think the same things at the same times. "And Valentine's Day," she submitted as if he didn't know. She accepted the blanket he handed over, as well as a sweatshirt that she recognized as his. "What's all this?"

"If you're still cold after you put on that, I'll turn up the heat."

"You can't even gift me with heat on my birthday?" she teased, immediately pulling the sweatshirt over her head. Settling in the oversized fabric as she inhaled the almondy scent. His scent.

"Did you just drink my Capri Sun?" he questioned, noticing the shriveled packet sitting on the coffee table. "Seriously?"

She gazed back at him innocently as she continued to wrap the lower half of her body in the fleece blanket he'd provided. "How about we call it even?"

"So we're starting 37 on a mature note, I see."

"Oh, shut up," she giggled. She hated to admit it, but she did feel rather cozy at that point. "What time are we going to the hospital?"

"She said they'll probably send Lori to her room around 8:00, so I figure we can head back at about 6:00."

"Got it." She laid herself across her side of the couch, resting on her back as she let out a long yawn and then quickly set her phone's alarm for 5:30 before letting it fall to the cushion beside her. "Good night."

"Now wait a minute," he said, lifting his hips from the couch to retrieve a treat from his back pocket. "I don't know about good, but... I can make it better."

Michonne frowned at his statement, wondering what he was insinuating, and her eyes panned up to him until she realized he was holding something over her face. A joint, to be exact, proffered between his fingers, which made her laugh. "Oh my god," she grinned, taking it from him to examine.

"Happy birthday to you," he smiled back, handing over a lighter, too. He repositioned onto his back as well, the two of them lying head to head, their feet dangling from each end of the couch. "I didn't get you anything, so…"

"Asshole," she joked, carefully lighting up over Rick's sweatshirt. "Are we sure it's a good idea to smoke up Lori's stash?"

"I doubt she'll even notice," he smirked, shaking his head. "We've got plenty."

"Oh, is that so?"

"I mean… not, like, felonious amounts," he amended, realizing he was talking to an officer of the court. "Don't worry."

"Well you're white and rich, so I wasn't particularly worried," she grinned, taking a quick toke before passing it up to him. "But I'm glad you've put some thought into it."

"I feel like all I do is think nowadays. My mind… my brain is just… full. Constantly."

Michonne nodded with understanding, knowing that nearly everything Lori was going through, he was experiencing, too. And on top of it, taking care of the kids and the house through it all. "I don't know how you do it."

"Without you, I don't think I could," he admitted, his eyes darting up in her direction. He took two quick puffs and handed it back to his friend. "I hope you know that."

"I do. But it's nice to hear."

"I guess I don't say thank you enough," he recognized with a small sigh, already feeling the drug seeping into his body. "I'm always worried it sounds trite after a while. Especially when I know you're not doin' it for me."

"I'm not," she smiled to herself. "And I don't want you to thank me for every tiny thing," she confirmed for him. She stared at the weed in her hand for several seconds, her mind already seeming to slow in response to it. "But like i said, sometimes it's nice to hear what you mean to someone."

"Well I could go on," he offered, smiling at the sound of her voice. It always managed to soothe him, even on his worst days.

"Please don't," she giggled, already blushing at the thought. "Like I said, I already know."

"Mmm." He chuckled again as he began to brush his hair from his face, only to realize that it was hers. "Jesus, I think it's hit me already."

"Lightweight."

"I won't deny that," he grinned at her mocking. "You remember Amsterdam?"

"Oh my  _god_ ," she immediately started laughing, which caused her to cough from the smoke. "I thought you guys were dying."

"Shit, I thought I was, too. I was seeing triples, everything looked like a kaleidoscope…"

"And you and Shane walking into traffic..."

"Lori swore up and down we were on mushrooms."

"I remember her texting me, mad at you because you were too far gone to have sex. And I basically replied, 'Well, sucks for you. Good night!'"

Rick laughed heartily in reply as he took the marijuana cigarette back from her. "I didn't know that," he returned thoughtfully before inhaling.

"Probably because you were too high," she giggled. "But that was the only reason we wanted to try it."

"For sex?"

Michonne nodded, ignoring the fact that he couldn't see her. "We were told by a certain saleswoman that it would be mindblowing."

"Hmm." He stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how he'd obviously missed his chance to find out. "And was it?" he decided to ask her.

"Oh god," she sighed longingly. "It was… yeah. Mike ate me like a birthday cake," she grinned. "Might be the best orgasm I've ever had."

Rick nearly fell off the couch as he laughed at her, smoke billowing from his mouth as he did. His mind involuntarily went to places he wasn't ready for, imagining his head buried between Michonne's thighs as he ate her like said birthday cake. He pushed the image out of his head just as quickly as it came, but the damage had been done. "Jesus," he whispered, rubbing his forehead. "Why'd I ask that?"

"I don't know," Michonne shook her head, unsure why she decided to be so candid. "But it feels good to talk about something other than sad shit."

"Feels good to talk to you," he agreed, passing back her birthday gift. "We never just shoot the shit anymore."

"That's literally all we do, Rick," she chuckled.

"I mean just me and you," he maintained. "When's the last time it was just the two of us? No spouses, no kids…"

She quickly racked her brain, searching for the last instance the two of them hung out without any purpose. Not doing a favor, or because she was there waiting for Lori. "That time we went to Flying Biscuit," she declared excitedly. "That was like October, right?"

"Of 2012, Michonne."

"No way."

"I promise you."

"My god, where is the time going," she sighed. "We do need to hang out more."

"I'm glad you agree," he smirked in reply. "You know the house next door is empty now. You could move right in."

She lifted her head to look at him, only getting an eyeful of his cascading curls. But she appreciated that he wanted her so close. "Now you know damn well I'm not leaving Buckhead for you."

"Yeah, I guess I do know that," he granted, shrugging to himself. "But I figured it was worth a shot."

Their conversation diminished into comfortable silence as they continued to pass the marijuana back and forth until they were sufficiently intoxicated by it. Managing, for a small slice of time, to ignore all the things weighing them down at the moment. For the first time in three months, Rick wasn't consumed with the idea of this surgery and in general, this illness that had come and claimed his wife – and their home right along with it. The respite was nice. It was needed.

"I'm pretty sure my marriage is over," Michonne declared quietly. Her voice was so low, her mind so hazy, she wasn't entirely sure she'd said it out loud. She wasn't sure she meant to. But as she heard Rick shift, she knew the word was out.

"What?" he asked, hoping he'd misheard.

"I don't think I wanna be married to Mike anymore," she repeated. It was the second time she'd said it out loud, the first time being offhandedly to her mother, who didn't even want to entertain the notion. But this was the first time Michonne recognized just how much she meant it; how deeply she felt it.

"Did somethin' happen?" Rick wondered worriedly. The evenness of her tone told him this wasn't sudden for her but rather something she'd been thinking about for a long time. But maybe it was the drugs talking for her.

"No, nothing specific. Not since…" Her words trailed off, not wanting to rehash old news. Mike's malpractice accusations nearly ruined everything for him, and therefore, them, and they were simply lucky it hadn't. But it remained a time in her life she didn't like to revisit. "I mean, it's just… there's been a disconnect lately."

"That doesn't mean it's over," he gently suggested. "Maybe you just have to fight harder."

"Maybe so," she relented, as it was clear he didn't understand what she was trying to say. Which was probably for the best, considering everything they had going on. Last thing he needed was her problems on his plate, too. "I'm exhausted. Ignore me."

"I will never ignore you, Michonne," he said seriously. He ran his hand through his hair until he reached the ends and his fingers were grazing her locs. As he lightly, absently twirled one between his fingertips, he thought of their long, winding friendship. His mind flashed to another moment they'd shared on a couch, and back then, he would've given anything to hear her say she was leaving Mike. They'd been through a lot together, from friends to almost-lovers to almost nothing, back to friends again. And as much as he used to wish they could be more, he wouldn't have traded their history for anything. "Never again."

* * *

_Present day._

**:: Can we talk after dinner? ::**

Michonne watched her phone, waiting apprehensively for those three famed dots to pop up on Rick's side of the iMessage to indicate that he was responding to her. Instead, she was left staring at their last exchange from the night before, him asking her to join him for a dip in the pool. She'd spent much of her day thinking about what happened in that pool, how things seemed to take a left turn right off of a cliff. It forced her to consider their relationship as a whole, and why she seemed to be sabotaging any forward movement within it. Because Rick was right – it was her. Mostly. And she hadn't come to any full conclusions, but she knew that she wanted to fix it. She  _needed_  to fix it before it was too late.

"Where do you want me to put these?"

Startled from her thoughts, she retreated from her closet to find Carl standing in her room with an armful of her freshly washed sheets. "You can just put them there," she nodded to the foot of her bed. "You finished all the guest stuff?"

"And put them away where you told me to," he confirmed.

She gazed at him, skeptical, but impressed at how helpful he'd been all day. "I would've wished for rain sooner if I knew this would be the result."

"Well, Dad told me to make myself useful, so…" he shrugged, taking a seat at the edge of the bed to start on folding the latest set of linen. "It was either this or do school stuff, which I definitely don't wanna see until January third."

"Of course," she chuckled, stepping back into her closet to glance at her phone. "You can wait to fold those later," she instructed, pulling her hair into a high ponytail. "Dinner is just about ready."

"Oh."

"By the way, they're saying it's gonna get pretty bad, so you may have to find another way to be useful tomorrow."

"Really?" he asked, clearly worried by the thought. "Like hurricane bad?"

"Tropical storm-ish," she countered, grabbing her phone before coercing him out of the room ahead of her, her free hand rested on his back. "Not terrible, but the power tends to go out. We may have to congregate downstairs through the worst of it."

"So no horseback riding tomorrow either, I guess."

"I'm afraid not, my friend," she pouted for him. " _Maybe_  Friday."

"This week is going by too fast," Carl exhaled disappointedly. "We're gonna be leaving before we know it."

"Yeah," she sighed. "There always comes that point in the vacation when you realize you have less time than more." She realized the same could be said about life, and she was fast approaching that point in hers, god willing she lived to be at least 90. And she was wasting it by not doing exactly what she wanted. "You just have to make the most of the time you do have."

He nodded, taking her point into consideration, but couldn't help but think of how much he was going to hate leaving Michonne again. He didn't realize how much he'd missed her – and missed having a mom – until they were back with her. "It'd be cool if we could just stay," he smiled at the thought.

"If who could stay where?" she frowned.

"Us," Carl chuckled. "Me, my dad, Judith. We could live down here with you and Andre."

Her eyebrows knitted with confusion as she realized he sounded serious about this. "You don't wanna live in Atlanta anymore?"

"I do… or I would. I don't really care," he shrugged. "But I can tell my dad likes it here more. He's… happier."

She inwardly smiled at the notion, as she could see where that was true. She was happier with him there, too. Before last night, anyway. But she wasn't sure that was realistic. Which she was coming to understand was part of the reason she was so resistant. "Even if that's the case, I don't think he wants to pull you and Judith out of school all of a sudden. There's no Woodward Academy here," she reminded him. "Your grandparents, your friends..."

"You and Carol could homeschool me and Judith too," he suggested, following her down the steps. "My grandparents could come visit. They'd love it here."

"Carl…"

"Or maybe I could stay with Shane and Andrea until I graduate. I dunno," he admitted. "I just know my dad needs to be here."

"And he would just leave his business?" she pressed, smiling at him knowingly. "You know he can't leave Shane to run everything."

The two of them laughed at the mere thought of that, but her smile faded as they made it downstairs and she noticed Rick sitting in the lounge with Jessie. They weren't interacting, but seeing them sitting there was more jarring than she wanted it to be. Perhaps because she'd spent the last five minutes staring at her phone waiting for an answer that wasn't coming.

"You're right," Carl replied, oblivious to her irritation. "I don't know what the answer is, but I just know it's gonna suck leaving."

"Yeah," she replied distractedly, continuing into the kitchen to check on her dinner creation. Carol and Jenny were already there, apparently sampling the product, but she was too sidetracked by then to care.

"Hey, lady," Jenny greeted her cheerfully, her mouth full of stew. "You look like outside." Which was meant to say gloomy.

"I have a headache," she lied, running her hand over her forehead for added effect. "Carl, do me a favor and tell everyone dinner is ready."

"Sure," he nodded, turning around just as he made it into the kitchen.

"Can you guys help me set the table?" she requested of her friends.

"Already done," Carol submitted with a smile. She could tell Michonne had been just a little bit off all day, but she wasn't sure why. "You're not alone here," she added as a gentle reminder.

Michonne nodded, taking a deep breath. She had this insane habit of stressing herself out, and she thought being in Anguilla had quelled that. But the situation, being back with these people who knew her better than anyone, she kept reverting back to her old ways. "Thank you," she whispered, squeezing her friend's arm. With that, she commenced with splitting the stew between two serving dishes and gathering ladles as she heard the chatter of her guests as they made their way into the dining room.

"Smells good."

She felt her stomach drop at the mere sound of Rick's voice, and she hated the way she became the 20-something version of herself – a girl with a crush – whenever he got too close these days. "Thank you," she answered coolly, managing not to show her hand. But she turned back to him and all of that ego flew out of the window at the sight of his face. "I thought you were ignoring me," she confessed.

His brows briefly furrowed, wondering why she would think that; but given their history, he couldn't say he didn't understand. "I told you I wouldn't do that again."

She looked him up and down, scanning his body for his phone, determining it was in the front left pocket of his shorts. She stepped up to him, brazenly pulling it from his pocket to check for herself, finding her text still sitting on his home screen, along with a couple of others. "It wasn't that long ago, so I guess I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt," she smirked, showing him the message.

He smiled at the fact that she wanted to talk after dinner. He'd stopped by the kitchen to ask her the same, hoping that their day apart was enough space. He wasn't sure that he could take much longer. Not when they had so little time left. "I'd like that," he responded softly, nodding slightly.

"Good." She let out a visible sigh of relief before turning back to the rest of the kitchen. "Now take my food out to the dining room."

Rick chuckled at her instruction, but he was quick to stick his phone back into his pocket and do as told. Also happy that whatever transpired, or didn't transpire, the night before wasn't the end for them. The last thing he wanted was for them to conclude this perfect vacation on a bad note. He'd come there looking for closure, but he was on the cusp of starting something new; finally continuing this 20-year love story, and he was scared that one bad night was going to ruin it all. He couldn't take that chance again.

"All right, everyone," Michonne declared as she sauntered to the table, surveying it a final time as she placed small bowls in front of Andre and Judith. "You're all welcome to get started."

"This looks bomb," Sasha gleefully commented, doing a little dance in her seat as Rick placed one of the serving bowls in front of her.

Conversely, Judith looked a bit dubiously as she stared at the brown contents from her side of the table. "Auntie, what is this?" she decided to ask.

"It's fish stew, sweetie."

"It's good," Andre assured his buddy with a confident nod. "Mommy doesn't make anything bad."

"Damn right," Shane agreed, helping his wife into her seat. "I don't even wanna think about having to go back home to regular food."

"Can't go back to eating Chipotle every day after this," Tara submitted, already serving herself. "Been here two days and I'm already ruined."

"You guys are very kind," Michonne smiled bashfully as she claimed her seat between Andre and Andrea. Rick took the seat in front of her, which made her happier than she wanted it to. But as he conspicuously stared at her, she wondered if that wasn't the best idea. "What?" she mouthed to him, frowning.

"Where's your phone?" he whispered beneath the other table conversations.

Confused, she pulled her phone from her back pocket, recognizing that she'd managed to miss a message from him in the span of the last two minutes. She nodded, recognizing how quickly the tables had turned on her, but momentarily set down the phone to serve her son first.

:: I thought about texting you all day,  
but I didn't know what to say ::

"I hope everyone's okay with wine tonight," she announced to the table as she noticed the bottles being passed around. "It pairs better with fish than hard liquor."

"Mommy, what does wine taste like?" Andre asked.

"It tastes like… something you can't have until you're eighteen."

The large table laughed in response as Tyreese suggested, "You oughta let him try some," he pointed to her glass. "My dad let us have beer when I was about his age and I hated it."

"To this day, I don't drink beer," Sasha appended with a nod.

"Shane's dad did the same with us," Rick happily recalled, gesturing across the table to his best friend. "I think we were ten?"

"Yeah, he let us drink and try a cigarette," Shane chuckled.

"Jesus," Andrea shook her head. "Don't even  _think_  about trying that with our kids."

"If nothing else, it's effective," Jessie offered. "Kill the curiosity."

"Yeah, I didn't drink again until college," Tyreese concurred.

"So you guys are saying I should've tried alcohol by now?" Carl asked the group before looking to his dad.

"You can try some wine if you want," Rick casually encouraged him.

"Really?"

"You're on vacation," he shrugged, pushing his own filled glass toward his son. "Live a little."

Carl wasn't sure where this version of his dad had come from – even before his mom died, he wasn't quite this much fun. It only solidified his idea that his dad would be much happier in Anguilla, and it was something he really wanted for him. "I can have this?"

"Go for it," Rick smirked, already knowing he wasn't going to like it.

As Carl took a giant sip of the wine and indeed grimaced at the pungent taste, the entire table laughed in unison at his reaction. And with everyone distracted, Michonne took that opportunity to respond to Rick's message, doing her best to be discreet as she did. If anyone noticed them texting one another, they'd never hear the end of it.

::  **"Sorry" would've been a good start  
;-)** ::

"Hey," Daryl interjected, surveying the table for the person who was supposed to be taking his room. "Where's Mike at?"

"Mike?" Andrea repeated him, looking to Michonne for clarification, as her Mike was the only Mike she knew. "He's coming?"

"He'll be here later," she answered her with a quiet nod.

Abraham looked on, confused, as he'd learned everyone's names by then, and knew none of them were Mike. "Who's Mike?" he questioned loudly.

Michonne sighed, feeling like she couldn't escape him, even when he was nowhere to be found. So much for being free. "He's… my husband."

"Ex-husband," Rick inserted, stealing his wine back as he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. "...Almost."

"He's here?" Jenny asked, still stuck on the original question.

"He's in Anguilla," Carol answered for her friend, having observed her obvious exasperation on the subject. She also wanted to kick Daryl's ass for revealing something she'd told him in private. "He's here to see Andre."

"So not for reconciliation?" Andrea asked.

"No," Rick replied, annoyed by the mere thought.

"Can we change the subject?" Michonne asked, nervously gulping down some of her own wine.

"Did you guys hear Debbie Reynolds died today?" Tara offered as a conversation starter.

"Just a day after Carrie," Sasha shook her head sadly. "This month has been so terrible."

"This whole year," Andrea nodded, staring blankly into her full bowl. A minute ago, she'd been starving, but now, she just wanted to lie down.

"I'm sorry, but I'm gonna invoke my right as the host to change the subject again," Michonne proclaimed, smiling sweetly as she picked up her phone to view Rick's reply. "Looks like we're gonna be stuck inside for the next 24 hours, so maybe we should come up with something to do with that time."

:: That's funny considering you started  
this whole thing. Or maybe I should say  
you stopped it. ::

"I hope we have some cards," Jenny posed as more of a question than a statement. "I can play Spades all day long."

"Jen, you know these folks don't play Spades," Morgan chuckled, thinking of how many times he'd unsuccessfully tried to teach his friends the game.

"Shane might be the worst partner I've ever had," Michonne agreed, laughing. "How do you overbid every damn time?"

"I believe that's called ego," Rick joked, also laughing at his friend. "I, however, am quite good at Spades, thank you."

"That's because I taught you how to play," Jenny pointed out proudly. "I don't know what this one did with the rest of y'all, but I just need a foursome."

"Now that sounds like my kinda party," Abraham jovially laughed.

**:: Really, Rick? ::**

"I wanna learn to play," Jessie cut in, amused by the argument that had started already. "Is it hard?"

"It's not hard," Sasha said, "but when I tell you that Black people don't play about their Spades? You better play right."

"She's not kidding," Andrea co-signed. "It's why I never learned."

"Can't stand the heat, stay out my kitchen," Jenny asserted.

:: Am I wrong? ::

"I hope it's not supposed to rain on New Year's Eve," Tara realized as the day was quickly approaching. "I'm looking forward to this beach party."

"As of now, it's not supposed to," Carol said. She picked up her own phone to recheck the weather forecast. "Tomorrow's supposed to be the worst of it."

"I kinda like the idea of being stuck indoors for a little while," Jessie smiled. "It brings people closer. Makes people actually talk instead of constantly  _doing_  things.

**:: You're oversimplifying the issue,  
yes. ::**

"No offense, but I'm about sick of talkin' to y'all," Shane joked. "I haven't seen this much of you people since college."

"First of all, that's a lie," his sister immediately countered him. "And secondly, after those twins come, you're gonna wish for the day you can hang out with your friends."

"She is right about that," Morgan chimed in knowingly. "Kids stop all the fun for a good three to five years, at the least."

"And they take all your money for eighteen," Jenny added.

"Twenty and counting," Carol corrected her.

"And you love it," Shane returned. "Y'all can pretend it's all difficult if you want, but I know each and every one of you wouldn't trade that shit for the world."

"Damn right," Rick admitted, setting his phone back to the table. "There's nothin' like being a parent. These two?" He gestured to Carl and Judith, shaking his head. "They're the best thing that ever happened to me."

:: I don't even know what the issue is.  
But it is pretty simple to me. I've  
wanted you for half my life. And I think  
it's safe to say the feeling is mutual,  
right? No matter how much we tried to  
ignore it or hide it from Mike and Lori, it  
never went away. It was hidden in every  
look we exchanged, it was the subtext  
of every conversation we ever had. It's  
been looming over us forever and I'm just  
glad we're finally at a point in our lives  
where we can do something about it. So I  
don't know what's holding you back now,  
but it's not me, Michonne. It's never been  
me. ::

As Michonne read the latest text in their exchange, the rest of the conversation became white noise. A distraction from the main event and what really mattered to her – Rick. She stared at her phone and then at him for much too long, barely able to contain herself from responding out loud. He was right – from the day they met and he asked her name with that shy smile and she knew he wanted more than that, up to now, initiating nearly every interaction between them. It had always been her holding them back. But in her mind, she always had good reason.

**:: You're right. ::**

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips as he began to discreetly type out a reply. But he noticed that she was amid another response, so he stopped and waited, also checked out of the dinner discussion at that point. He was certain someone would notice, but he didn't really care. They needed to have this conversation.

**:: But you also never consider the**  
consequences of your actions. You  
do what you want, when you want,  
and forget anyone else who's hurt in  
the process, right? ::

:: If that's how you wanna look at it, sure.  
But wanting to be happy isn't a bad  
thing, Michonne. When have you ever  
allowed yourself to be selfish? ::

**:: I don't even think I know that word lol. ::**

:: I can tell. ::

**:: Don't be an asshole. ::**

:: I'm not lol. I love that about you. Until it  
becomes the reason you start building a  
wall between us. ::

**:: That's not the only reason I've put up a  
wall. Am I scared? Yeah, I can admit that.  
After all this time, it doesn't even feel  
real. I keep waiting for something to snatch  
this away from me, because reality has a way  
of crashing down when you least expect it.  
And I don't like surprises. So I guess that's  
why I want to start this on a clean slate. No  
Mike hanging over us. He feels like a weight  
sitting on my chest, and I want it off of me  
because I feel like I can't move with him there.  
I want the woman sitting two seats away from  
you to know that she's as invisible to you as I  
am to her. It's bad enough you're my best  
friend's husband. I just want this to be right.  
I don't even know what that means for us, but  
** **I really understand why you don't.** **We *should***  
be scared, Rick. ::

:: Only thing I'm scared of is going another  
twenty years without us giving this an honest  
try. ::

"Daddy, your food is getting cold," Judith noted with a mouth full of the stew she'd been so hesitant to try. "Try it, it's good."

Disrupted from their increasingly intense conversation, Rick looked to his daughter with a small smile on his lips, taking note of how much she was enjoying her meal. She seemed to enjoy everything about Anguilla, and it wasn't lost on him that having a mother in her life had changed her demeanor entirely for the better. He wasn't the only one that wanted Michonne in his life. They were good together for so many reasons, and he didn't understand why she was hung up on the few small obstacles. But if he could help eliminate any of them for her, he would. "Actually," he cleared his throat, getting the attention of the rest of the table, "I'd like to make a toast."

"We're already eating," Andrea pointed out, as she wasn't particularly interested in stopping.

"I'll make it quick," he promised, not wanting to piss off a pregnant lady – not that one, especially, as she'd been in a bit of a mood the past few days. "I just wanna say something about our remarkable host before I lose the opportunity. Because when you're friends with someone forever, you can forget what they mean to you. They don't hear it enough from the people closest to them because it's often implied. But Michonne, thank you for this incredible week," he said, looking her in the eye as he raised his glass to her and she offered a bashful smile in return. As he knew she would. Because he knew her better than nearly anyone.

"I've been in love with you since the day we met," Rick went on to casually reveal, heads turning and mouths dropping in response. But his gaze didn't leave Michonne's, even as those big browns of hers widened in shock. "And every day since then has been a little bit better because you were a part of my life. To the point where I was mad at you when you decided to leave," he nodded. "Because it felt like you were leaving me. And I was too selfish to really understand why that was okay. Why it was a good thing. Not until I came here and saw what you built, witnessed your new life here. And I realized I was happier to see you happy than I was sad about you not being in Atlanta anymore. You needed to do something for  _you._ " His stare was a mixture of playful and earnest, as he knew she was probably reeling from his announcement, but he hoped she understood what he was trying to say; what he was trying to do. "So I want this to mean you'll start doin' more things for yourself, because you deserve… everything you want out of life." He smiled at her warmly, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement. He might regret this in the morning, but for now, he was going after what  _he_  wanted. "So I guess all of that was to say that I'm proud of you, Michonne. And here's to you."


	13. Quiet Storm

"I'm sorry," Jessie interrupted, chuckling awkwardly as a comically hesitant round of 'hear, hear's went around the table – all of it in response to Rick's unexpected toast. "Did I miss something?"

"I'd say you've missed about twenty years," Carol answered coolly, rather unsurprised by Rick's admission given what she'd observed on their vacation so far. And having known Rick since he was in elementary school, she felt she knew him fairly well. She was always clear that he loved Lori, but in her mind, they never  _quite_  matched. Now, she understood why.

"I feel like I must've missed it too," Andrea raised her hand, "because what the hell?"

Shane looked on quietly as Rick sat back with his drink, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he gazed at the woman he'd just professed his love for. Michonne was to his side, so he couldn't discern her full expression from his angle, but he could only imagine that if Rick just blindsided her, she wasn't going to be particularly happy.

"Daddy," Judith pulled at Rick's shirt, sitting her juice back on the table. "What happened?"

"Dad just told everyone he loves Michonne," Carl explained to her quickly and quietly. Their godmother had yet to speak, and he didn't want Judith's stupid questions to sidetrack her from responding to the bomb their dad just dropped in the middle of the table.

"Well duh," she retorted with a precociousness that only a five-year-old could invoke. "Auntie, I love you, too," she adorably declared.

Michonne had been trying desperately to hold it all together in front of their friends, loath to show her hand here, but Judith and her sweet proclamation almost immediately crumbled her steely resolve into pieces. "I love you too, chickpea," she cooed, grinning at her from across the table.

"I love you too, Mommy," Andre told her, though he, too, was still rather confused about the evening's events, and why everyone looked so dumbfounded by his uncle's toast.

"And I love you too, peanut," Michonne replied, planting a big kiss on the side of his face, much to his dismay. By then, she knew it would look strange if she didn't address what Rick said in some way, but what she wanted to say couldn't be said in front of the kids. "Can I talk to you in private for a second, Rick?"

"Of course," he granted, undeceived by her chipper tone, as he knew he was likely in trouble. But he needed to get the ball rolling somehow – if it were up to Michonne, he was concerned she would stall forever.

"Uh oh," Tyreese chuckled, noting the lack of expression on Michonne's face as the two of them silently made their way toward the steps. "That might not end well."

"Either that, or she's putting on an act and she's about to suck the head off his dick," Andrea mumbled, stuffing her mouth with a giant bite of bread.

Jenny nearly spit out her drink as she overheard the crass comment, but she couldn't disagree. "Ma'am," she exclaimed in amusement. "Because that is  _precisely_  what I'd do if that was said about me."

As Andrea and Jenny shared a high five, Shane only shook his head at his wife. "You need help, girl."

"I really do," she concurred with a small smirk. "Carl didn't hear me, did he?"

"I definitely did," the teenager answered from several seats away. "Was trying to pretend I didn't though, thanks."

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she blushed, sipping down her water. "It's pregnancy brain."

"What's been your excuse the other 39 years of your life?" Shane teased her.

"You shut up," she pointed back at her husband. "I've got two kids rolling around in here trying to kill me. I get excuses."

"So nobody is gonna follow them to see what they're saying?" Sasha interjected, seeing the conversation quickly deviating from the main event. "Or am I the only one shocked here?"

"Oh, I was definitely surprised," Morgan answered from behind his napkin as he opened his mouth. "I remember Rick liking her way, way back, but I thought that's all it was."

"That's because you don't pay attention," Jenny told him.

"So what he said wasn't hyperbole?" Tara asked, mostly in the interest of her friend, who looked like she was on the verge of either throwing up or actually going to eavesdrop on them. Possibly both. She could only imagine Jessie's world turned on its axis when Rick announced he was in love with someone else – especially after two whole months of anticipating this trip. "Like, he's literally in love with her?"

"He wanted to date Michonne even before he met my mom," Carl informed her, also in the interest of letting Jessie know that she didn't have a chance here. God, what a relief. "So yeah, I think he meant it literally."

"He told you that, Carl?" Shane questioned.

"A couple days ago," he confirmed with a nod. "I saw them kissing the other day too, but they got interrupted..."

"Michonne is going to kill you  _and_  Rick," Carol commented, pointing to the teenager. Loose lips clearly didn't fall far from the tree. "No more wine for you."

As the rest of the table laughed, Carl blushed, as he did feel a little funny after those couple of sips his father allowed him. "I just feel like if the cat is out of the bag, there's no need to keep secrets anymore."

"He's right," Jenny gestured to him tipsily. "You've always been very astute for your age."

Carl smiled appreciatively as he noticed Jessie finish her half-full glass of alcohol in one giant gulp. He was tempted to troll her a little bit more, but Carol was probably right that Michonne was going to kick his ass for revealing as much as he had. "That's really all I know, though."

"That's a lot to take in," Andrea sighed, sitting back from the table with her full stomach. She noticed Daryl at the end of the table, still chowing down as if he didn't care about any of it. Then again, knowing Daryl, he probably didn't. "You've been quiet down there, Mr. Dixon."

"Just mindin' my business," he shrugged. He also got most of the information he needed when he saw Rick and Michonne in the pool the night before, looking like they were either already fucking or damn close to it. Rick's revelation just added a little more context to what he already knew. "Y'all oughta try it."

While the discussion at the table continued, Michonne had taken Rick back to his villa, far enough away that they couldn't be heard, especially over the sound of the relentlessly falling rain. She knew their friends well enough to know they'd try to listen if they could, and Rick had just given them every reason to dive into their business. As soon as they were effectively inside, she cornered him against the door and started talking. "Have you lost your fucking mind?" she whispered at him.

"I haven't," he promised with a quiet, almost nervous chuckle. "I just know—"

"I  _just_  told you I don't like surprises," she cut him off to say. "And here you go blindsiding me with this? In front of everyone we know?"

"These are literally our closest friends," he defended, frowning at her response to it all. He thought he was doing what she needed by taking the bull by the horns and letting everyone – namely Jessie – know how he felt. "If we can't trust them, we have no business doing this in the first place."

With that, she backed up a bit, concluding that he was right in that aspect. He had a habit of being right about a lot of things, and it was becoming increasingly annoying. "You're still an asshole," she shook her head. "Did you even realize Carl was sitting there listening to you opine about how you've always loved me? And what he would think that must mean about his mother?"

"Carl was raised by me and his mother," Rick reminded her, his even tone making it sound like he'd considered it beforehand. "He knows that I loved her with everything I had. I still do," he appended. "But this is about us. So what else are you mad about so I can shoot it down?"

"Everything is just so easy to you, huh?"

"You're gonna run out of excuses soon," he nearly whispered, his gaze drinking in her expression.

"Fuck you."

"I'd like to," he smirked. "But I'd rather you stop being mad at me first."

She rolled her eyes at him joking around when she was clearly wasn't in that kind of mood. "I'm not mad," she countered, though she wasn't sure that was true. "I'm just… confused."

"You're scared," he offered, recalling her admission via text and the look on her face that matched it. "Tell me what you're scared of."

"I'm scared of ruining us," she nodded, squarely staring him in those baby blues that seemed so intent on devouring her. She'd seen them a million times by now, and still, every look gave her something different. "We've worked so hard for this friendship, and if this doesn't work out for one of the million reasons it shouldn't… then what? I can't live a life without you in it."

"I'm not goin' anywhere, Michonne. Whether this works or not, how do you think you're gonna get rid of me?"

"You say that. But the reality of the situation is that we live in two different countries, Rick. We have kids that need stability in their lives. Have you even thought about how this plays out, or you just figure it'll magically work itself out?" she pressed. "Because right now, I just see myself getting closer to someone I'm already astonishingly close to. Someone who's gonna leave me in four days, and I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself."

"Of course I've thought about it," he returned. "It's all I've thought about for the past week. How I want you; I wanna be with you. And I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen."

"You're gonna move to Anguilla?" she rolled her eyes once more. "Be serious, Rick."

"I would," he quipped, more serious than he'd been about anything in a long time. "Just say you want me here and I will."

"Just say it and you'll leave your whole life behind?" she scoffed. "You're living in some fairytale."

"You did it," he reminded her.

"I did it because my best friend died and my marriage fell apart and it felt like I was suffocating in Atlanta."

"Well maybe it feels like I'm suffocating without you," he said. He was trying to keep his voice low, but the passion behind it wouldn't allow him to. "Maybe… maybe you deserve a fuckin' fairytale, Michonne. We deserve to stop living for other people. Not for your parents, not for Mike or Lori. You put all this weight on your back and won't even let anyone take it off you. I asked if you felt free and I realize now that it'd never even crossed your mind because you can't even fathom it."

"No, I can't," she submitted honestly. "The truth is, I'm still having trouble getting past the part where you're my best friend's husband."

"Your best friend is dead," he argued, his eyes begging her to let Lori go. "My  _wife_  is dead. We can love her all we want, but she's not our excuse anymore. She's the reason I understand that life is too short for this… bullshit. You said it would be nice to find someone, and here I am. Our kids are all that should matter, and they love each other. So if this is what you want, you just have to say it. It's not gonna get any easier than that."

Michonne let out a sharp exhale, the sudden urge to cry and scream hitting her all at once. Because he was absolutely right. Yet again. She was so consumed with making sure everyone else was okay with them, she wouldn't allow herself to be. She'd spent twenty years fighting this for that exact reason. She was scared that she didn't know how to stop at this point. "I don't know why I'm like this," she shook her head, wiping at tears before they could fall. "My mom was like this, too," she recalled of her own upbringing. She ran herself ragged taking care of everyone but herself. "I think we often have to be," she added, the realization striking her that 'we' meant women, and specifically Black women, because they often had to be  _everything_. It was so much – too much – to unpack right there. "But I know I don't wanna be in my own way."

Rick nodded, appreciating that this was a deeper issue than either of them probably realized. "Well the first step to fixing the problem…"

She felt her entire body go numb as she realized she was about to take a giant leap into the unknown here. As much as Rick liked to think this was all going to be easy, she knew better, which made these uncharted waters incredibly scary to her. But she also wanted this, wanted him so badly that it consumed her. And running wasn't going to do anything to help that. She would regret it forever if she didn't give this an  _honest_ try, as he called it. "I do want it," she whispered, her eyes communicating it even more than her words. "I don't wanna rush it. I have to talk to Andre about all this…" She shook her head, knowing this was probably all so confusing for her little man. "And Mike isn't gonna go quietly into the night, but… I want it. I want you."

"Well I wasn't gonna move to Anguilla tomorrow," he smiled. Relieved to hear her say the words out loud without a litany of excuses attached to it. "But it'll be good to finally be headed somewhere."

She nodded, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch his chest; silence falling over them as the weight of the moment landed between them. They were really doing this. "Wouldn't it be funny if we went through all this and it turned out that we were just completely incompatible sexually?" She wasn't really worried about that possibility, but it was rather funny and also kind of beautiful that they were so inimitably attracted to one another, so certain they had some soul-altering love, but they'd yet to see each other fully naked. Not in the physical sense, anyway. She chuckled at his unamused expression in response. "No?"

"I mean, we've got space and opportunity right now," he joked back. "The kids are downstairs…"

She stared back at him, seriously considering his offer; her eyes settling on his rosy lips as he absentmindedly bit at the bottom one. His chest was so hard beneath her fingertips, she almost couldn't wait to feel him on top of her. And the kids  _were_  distracted, after all... But no, she didn't want their first time to be some rushed rendezvous on Rick's countertop, as enticing as that sounded. And the thought of rejoining the dinner table as if nothing happened only made it more tempting. But after all these years, she wanted their first time to be as long as and indulgent as they needed. She wanted it to be special. "As tempting as that is…"

"Yeah, no, we should probably get back," Rick agreed, already imagining what the discussion downstairs must've been. "I'm sure I have some explainin' to do."

"You absolutely do," she smirked, reaching for his hand before they could leave. She liked the idea that she could show affection toward him now without worrying about other people catching them. "I just wish you'd forewarned me about your little announcement so I could've seen Jessie's face as you said it."

"It was as much for you as it was for her," he shrugged. He suddenly felt like he was floating as her skin caressed his when their fingers interlocked. "But she didn't sound thrilled."

"No, I imagine she isn't," Michonne chuckled quietly. "She came here looking for romance, only to find out that the guy she wanted likes someone else."

"He  _loves_  someone else."

She smiled at his correction, because that was certainly what Jessie heard. "With the Black girl," she simpered again as she opened the door, thinking about how Jessie had been so gallingly oblivious to their connection. "I know she didn't see that shit coming."

He gave her a sidelong glance as he took note of her modifier. "You think you were invisible to her because of that?"

"I do," she admitted, the two of them meandering down the open corridor as they continued their quiet conversation. The rain outside was so loud, it essentially drowned them out. "Girls in school were always like that when it came to you and me."

"Really?"

"They could only see me as your friend. As if the possibility that you'd be into me was just so remote."

Rick was aware of those types of microaggressions – he'd engaged in many conversations on the subject over the years, mostly with and thanks to Morgan, who taught literal courses on race in America – but he also had the luxury of not having to notice them until they were pointed out. He'd just chalked up Jessie to being obtuse. "Is that what we have to look forward to now?"

"Unless you plan to go around professing your love for me to every stranger we meet."

"I can do that," he grinned, enjoying that they were essentially discussing their future here, even if only jokingly. "Although I was probably gonna do that anyway..."

Michonne smiled back because she knew that he probably would, too. He was good that way. "Come here," she whispered, giving his hand a gentle pull before they could head downstairs. He stopped in place, allowing her to pin him against the nearest wall before going in for a kiss. Her hands cupped his face, her fingers luxuriating in his immaculate beard, before tangling in his curls as her full lips found his. The two of them inhaled one another as their tongues immediately touched and then latched, their tastes and scents melding into one sense. Within seconds, Rick was wrapping his arms around her waist, his right hand palming her soft backside as their kissed deepened. It was a passionate, hopeful kiss – the result of two people finally and firmly on the same page. This was Michonne letting go; doing something for herself.

* * *

"She banished you to the kitchen too, huh?"

Rick glanced up from the stove at the sound of Mike's voice, his entire body stiffening as he watched him saunter through the lobby rolling his giant suitcase behind him. He let out a low growl thinking of how the twenty-year thorn in his side was now staying with them. "Hey, Mike," he replied, ignoring his question as much as his own frustration.

"What are you making this time of night?" he asked, noting the saucepan in front of him didn't quite match the nearly midnight hour.

"I'm warmin' up some milk for Andre," Rick answered evenly, not wanting to stir the figurative pot. "The storm kept him up."

Mike simply smirked at his answer, because of course. "Always helpful, huh?"

"Easy to be helpful when you're around to help," he shrugged, using his wooden spoon to swirl the cool milk. "Nice to have you here."

"Is it?" Mike pressed him, knowing that he probably felt the opposite. Had he been in Rick's position, he would've been annoyed to say the least. In fact, he could think of several situations where he had been in similar positions and Rick would show up and ruin things – it pissed him off every time.

"I was being polite," he admitted in response. "But you're right, I didn't mean that."

He nodded as he looked toward the staircase. The place was dark and quiet, almost eerily so. "So I guess this means you're staying with my wife, huh?"

Rick smirked at his unfailing need to pry, constantly asking what was going on with him and Michonne. It seemed to be the opposite of Jessie, who couldn't even see their closeness. Mike was always trying to define it – which he supposed he couldn't blame him for. "I'm not," he said. "Not yet, at least."

"Not yet?" Mike chuckled. "Are y'all not leaving on Sunday?"

"We are…"

"You don't think it's about time to shoot your shot?"

Rick's brows knitted, thinking that a strange statement considering Mike was with Michonne for thirteen years before they got married. Still, he kept his gaze planted in the milk, figuring that wasn't his business. "Ten seconds ago, she was your wife. Now you're encouraging me?"

"I mean, it never stopped you before," Mike shrugged, effectively deciding to throw all his cards on the table. "What's the difference at this point?"

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

"It means I've been competing with you for twenty years now, man." When Rick finally looked up at him, Mike smiled a bit sadly, though mostly satisfied as Rick's deer-in-headlights mien replaced the smug smirk he'd been wearing the past few days. He never quite understood what Michonne saw in him, but for a long time, he knew it was something. "I was never good enough after you came along."

"So you've been having a pity party with yourself for two decades over it? That why you stopped trying to be good enough?"

"Oh, I stopped trying? Is that what you two decided?"

"I don't know what Michonne thinks," Rick shook his head. "We don't bother talkin' about you at this point. But I know what I witnessed. I watched her miss you… I watched her cry over you. Mourning her best friend and her marriage at the same time. I watched for  _years_  while she loved you, even when you didn't deserve it." His voice went hoarse as he tried to keep from speaking too loudly, even as thunder ominously boomed in the background, but his emotion was so apparent. "She married you for a reason, Mike. And it's not my fault, and it's certainly not Michonne's if you forgot what that reason was. Maybe you never knew it in the first place—"

"She chose me because I was safe," Mike interrupted him to say, nodding as the words came out of his mouth for the first time. He'd had a lot of time to think about this on all those trips overseas, leaving behind his crumbling marriage. He didn't realize he'd chosen his career over his family until it was much too late, but now, he understood that much, at least. "I was the easy choice. We made sense on paper," he explained. "High school sweethearts, making pacts to apply to the same colleges because we were gonna get married. Like we knew anything about anything at eighteen years old," he chuckled. "Then we did the clichéd, complementary majors. Pushing each other through med school and law school. It didn't hurt that her parents loved me, probably more than she did," he intimated with a light scoff. He stared at Rick, knowing they wouldn't have wanted him for their daughter. He had that advantage over Rick, at least. "I know she loved me. She loved making that life we had. But at this point, there's no use pretending I didn't know she would've rather been with you."

"I don't know if that's true," Rick replied, feeling his face flushing as he processed everything he was hearing. "I think if you'd been there, she'd still be with you."

"She probably would," he immediately agreed. "That's the kind of person she is. And I don't know that that's fair to either of us."

"Maybe it's not," Rick sighed. He wasn't sure how to respond to any of this, because in truth, he didn't know what it was like to be on the other side. It can't be easy to love someone that loves someone else. He wondered – he  _worried_  now – did Lori spend much of her life secretly feeling similarly? Here they thought they were sparing people's feelings, but in the end, maybe they only made it worse on all four of them.

"Was it junior year?" Mike decided to ask, feeling like he might finally get an honest answer to the questions that'd been weighing on him for so long.

"Nothin' happened," he shook his head, returning to his concoction. "Just… a kiss. But she stopped it."

He nodded, having figured there was  _something_ , even if Rick considered it nothing. "I thought it was just because I'd been gone that semester, but nothing was ever quite the same after I came back," he recalled. "At 21, I couldn't piece it all together, but with hindsight… I dunno," he sighed. "It was like she was always looking through me. Probably wishing she could see you."

"Did you ever think about leaving?" Rick wondered. "I mean, for good."

"Like I was ever gonna do better than Michonne?"

Rick chuckled, understanding that sentiment if nothing else. But he'd been left speechless, having run out of fake niceties and sarcastic quips to exchange with Mike. He felt for him in some strange way, even knowing what he'd put Michonne through. He could see where living with that assumption for half your life was no cakewalk either. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it happened that way," Rick offered, moving toward the cup cabinet to grab the mug with Andre's name on it.

"It's not worth much," he admitted, watching as Rick poured milk for his own son, adding a spoonful of honey in a twist he was unfamiliar with. He supposed he would have to get used to the unusual now. "But I am, too."

Rick simply nodded, the contentious moment having turned awkward. "Well, I should get… back upstairs," he said hesitantly. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow or… at some point."

Mike nodded too. As much as he hated seeing his family slip between his fingers and firmly into Rick's grasp, it was nice to know that they were being taken care of when he wasn't around. "I know you didn't mean it when you said it, but it is good to be here," he said. "I needed to be here."

"Yeah, you probably did," Rick agreed, as much as he didn't like it either. But Andre deserved to have his father close. If he could've given Judith and Carl their mother back, he would've done it in a heartbeat. And their brief but poignant conversation told him that Mike was slowly accepting what seemed to inevitable. There was a shift happening with all of them, and he realized Michonne probably made the right call in allowing him to stay there. "Well. Good night."

"Yep. Good night."

* * *

The eventful night soon turned into day, though darkness continued to loom over the typically vibrant island. Michonne awoke to the unusual sight of Judith's messy blonde curls just beneath her, the five-year-old tucked cozily against her body. And on the other side of the bed, Andre was using Rick as a pillow, which made her smile probably more than it should've. But she was starting to see how all of this fit together; how their family would look once all was said and done, and she liked the picture that she saw. Yawning, she turned to get a glimpse of her clock, only to realize the power had gone out. "Shit," she quietly sighed, unsure of the time.

"I woke up, I think, around 3:00 and it was out," Rick whispered, glancing at his watch when he heard her shift in the bed. "It's 7:15 now."

"Of course it is," she shook her head, staring at the ceiling. "I don't wanna get up."

"I can make breakfast," he offered, peering across the small space between them to gaze at the side of her face. Even in the dullness of a gloomy day, she was radiant. "It'd be good practice."

"Good practice for what?" she smiled over at him, chuckling quietly.

"For when I'm here. When we run this place together."

"Oh, is that what's gonna happen?"

"Well yeah," he returned casually, stifling a yawn as he watched her carefully rearrange Judith so that she slip out of bed. "After the wedding, of course."

"Jesus, Rick," she giggled at all the plans he'd apparently made since dinner. She quietly went to her dresser and found a pair of jeans to throw on over her pajama shorts before making her way to his side of the bed. "In the span of twelve hours, you've gone from zero to sixty to 120, you know."

"Makin' up for lost time?"

Michonne grinned down at him, moving close to run her fingers through his mussed hair. "I'm gonna get breakfast together," she nodded toward the door. "When you get up, I'll show you where all the flashlights and candles are."

"You think the power'll still be out tonight?"

"Yeah, we don't have Georgia Power down here. I've got a generator for the water heater, air, and my refrigerators," she nodded, assuring herself that they'd be okay with that. "Lights aren't exactly the priority for anyone right now."

He understood the logic there, especially given the small size of the island and the fact that most of it shut down during hurricane season for these very reasons. "Maybe we should get you another generator."

"You have 'another generator' money?" she shot back with another smile, knowing she sounded just like her mother.

"Are we really having this conversation?" he asked, hoping so. "Because I do."

She continued to grin at him while her stare shifted to Judith as she briefly stirred. "Not right now," she whispered. Her mind was practically spinning already with all the things she had on it. As they fell asleep the night before, Rick informed her of his illuminating conversation with Mike, so she was certain that was going to be the elephant in some room at some point in the day. And she wasn't sure what she was going to say about any of it. "Give me an hour for breakfast?"

"You're sure you don't need help?"

Michonne leaned in to give him a soft and short kiss, immediately recognizing that she could get used to this kind of thing. Even before they fell apart, she and Mike's schedules didn't allow many opportunities for morning kisses and help with breakfast. "I'll be fine," she promised, happily coiling one of his soft curls around her finger. "I'll commission Carl if I need any extra help."

Rick nodded, licking his lips of the taste of her - he, too, was looking forward to waking up like this. "I'm gonna go back to sleep then."

She smiled, her fingers lingering in his hair for an extra beat before leaving him and their children to a final few minutes of slumber. She grabbed her phone on her way out, sending a quick text to Carl as she continued downstairs. The view from her balcony gave a full scope of just how bad it was outside – the sea practically roaring, fragments of palm trees strewn across the beach. It was really putting a damper on the end of their vacation. But she still had a job to do with people to feed, so she headed on down to the main kitchen to get started.

Michonne nearly stopped in her tracks, though, as she reached the lobby only to find Jessie sitting in plain view, silently staring out at the storm. She looked like she was waiting for something – probably an explanation. They'd yet to even exchange glances, much less any dialogue since Rick's confession, and she wasn't exactly prepared for that confrontation now. But there was no use in avoiding the woman, even if she could – the damage was already done. "Hey, Jessie," she opted to casually greet her, doing her best not to startle her as she approached.

Jessie immediately and sharply turned to her voice, surprised to see Michonne standing there. In her mind, she and Rick were somewhere consummating their epic, eyeroll-inducing love story – the thought kept her awake most of the night – and she'd already illogically decided she wouldn't see them anytime soon. "Hey," she returned, listening for footsteps behind her. Still uselessly looking for Rick.

"You okay?" Michonne asked softly, starting toward the kitchen again. "You look… troubled."

"Oh. No, I just… I couldn't sleep," she smiled awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with her. "I came down to read, but I got swept away with watching the weather."

She only nodded, lacking any kind of imaginative reply. "Well, I was gonna try to conjure up some kind of breakfast for everyone," she informed her, "so I'll be in there."

Jessie nodded back, watching Michonne as she walked away, studying everything about her, from the swing of her hair to the sway of her hips. Looking for a reason to hate her beyond her own hurt feelings. She knew it was her own fault for making a lot of baseless assumptions, but she wanted to blame it on Michonne anyway, no matter how irrational. But no, Michonne was practically perfect. Beautiful in a way that other women couldn't really compete with. And she was kind; or better yet, warm. She seemed intelligent but not off-putting. Charming. And on top of it, a mother – his kids' godmother. And on top of  _that_ , a lifelong friendship to seal all of that together. Of  _course_  Rick was in love with her. "So fucking obvious," she sighed to herself, forcing herself up from her chair. She followed her train of thought to the kitchen, where Michonne had already gotten to work, chopping up pineapples. "You must think I'm such an idiot," she announced, a gloomy smile sitting on her face as she leaned against an open counter.

Michonne looked to her guest, taken aback by her sudden appearance, but didn't show it as she coolly stopped what she was doing. "I don't," she promised, her voice softened by her compassion for this woman. "You liked a guy and… he already liked someone else. Happens to the best of us."

"Says the girl who's had Rick hanging onto her every word for twenty years," she quietly scoffed.

"It wasn't like that," Michonne tried to smile. "It's been a very long, very difficult road to get to a place where he could say that out loud. And I honestly never thought the day would come, so… I mean, I know what that must've felt like, and I'm sorry it happened the way it did. But hurting you wasn't the intention."

Jessie nodded again, believing her. It didn't change the fact that it stung like hell, though. "Why'd you let me sit there the other morning going on and on about how much I liked him? When you knew exactly why he was distant?"

"What did you want me to say?" she shook her head.

"The truth. Some sort of warning? So I didn't go around looking like an idiot."

Michonne started to say something mean, but refrained in favor of her typical diplomacy. "I don't know you," she reminded her gently, "and I didn't think it was my place to burst your bubble that way."

She relented with another nod, absently chewing at her bottom lip and flashing one of her dimples. "It should've been Rick," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "But then, I was presumptuous, I guess," she admitted, shaking her head. "Pete used to love repeating that whole 'ass out of you and me' mantra about assumptions. I used to think it was bullshit, but…"

"There's that," she smiled, going back to her task as she realized the minutes were ticking away. "But I can also see why you did."

Her tired eyes widened as she stared at Michonne, a hopefulness in her voice as she asked, "You can?"

"If a single guy I'd been spending time with asked me on vacation, I think I'd make some assumptions."

"Right?" Jessie maintained, relieved to hear that she wasn't completely out of her mind. She needed to hear that. "But I guess I was so shocked when he asked me, I didn't stop to think about why. I didn't consider, 'Hey, you guys have never really talked about anything besides your kids. Maybe this isn't a romantic thing.' I just… got my hopes up," she chuckled ruefully. Michonne's sympathetic stare only made her feel worse, but she went on anyway. "I know I told you my ex is an asshole. I didn't mention the part where he used to beat the shit out of me, mostly because I've learned to hide it well. But I think I would've died if I hadn't gotten out of there…"

"Jessie…" Michonne whispered, dropping her knife back to the cutting board. She instantly felt sorry for the woman in front of her, but also wondered if this was perhaps too much information for mere acquaintances. She decided against expressing that, though, understanding that Jessie probably needed to get this off her chest. This was likely what Carl saw in her that he didn't like – her trying to hide all this pain. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay," Jessie shook her head. "I did get out of there. And as fate would have it, I moved in next door to this… perfect guy. Incredibly handsome and sweet. An attentive dad. I thought God was answering my prayers. Or paying me back for all the shit I endured," she chuckled again, this time at how silly it all sounded out loud. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

"I dunno," Michonne returned sadly. She wasn't sure what to say to her in light of this revelation. Normally, she would've allowed her guilt over it to send her running from Rick yet again. But she wasn't going to do that now – she'd waited too long for this. So all she had to offer Jessie was compassion. "You were looking for something," she said. "After what I can only imagine you've been through… there's nothing ridiculous about that."

"And then you make it impossible to hate you," she smirked. "God…"

"It's okay if you hate me," Michonne said softly. "I actually really enjoy the honesty between us."

"No, I'm being honest. I sat up most of the night just… stewing in my own confusion and misery. But at the end of the day, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I've done a lot of things wrong," she replied with wistfulness in her tone. "I don't even know what this turns into for me and Rick, but I can't pretend I don't want this. Badly. And you don't have to pretend you're okay with that."

"You should want it," Jessie encouraged her. "You should enjoy this. Guys like Rick don't come along every day," she said, then immediately realized Michonne probably knew that better than anyone. "I'm guessing you've been in love with him for just as long?"

"Nearly," she admitted with an almost indiscernible nod. "I was with Mike at the time, so he went for Lori. But there was always… something there."

"That's beautiful, but also kind of sad."

"It is," Michonne knew. Every time she admitted it out loud, she was reminded of that. "We let it fade into the background for the most part, but being here together just sort of pushed it all to the surface. Can't ignore it anymore."

Jessie nodded as she stared at Michonne, inwardly trying to decide whether to be kind to this woman who'd stolen the man that never belonged to her. "You probably haven't had much time alone with two little kids running around."

"We've stolen a few moments," she shrugged, though they were never quite enough. "Luckily, we've got about eight babysitters around if we really need them."

"Nine," she offered, raising her hand. "I mean if you wanna go out. Or even stay in, maybe for New Year's Eve." She figured the rest of the group would have their own plans with their significant others, but she was sure to be wide open that night. "Of course, who knows what the weather will be like, but I'd be glad to watch the kids either way."

"You really don't have to do that," Michonne smiled gratefully.

"It's what I'm good at," Jessie smirked again. Thinking of how Rick reminded her of that the night before, thanking her for her service; explaining that  _that_  was why he'd invited her on an island vacation. "I'm trying to be mature here. Please let me be."

Michonne laughed genuinely in response, truly enjoying the candor between them. In some other life, she could've seen them being friends. An alternate version of her friendship with Lori, where she's totally transparent about being in love with Rick. That sounded nice, in fact. "I'll think about it," she said seriously. "I will."

* * *

"You know, I didn't think I would enjoy this," Sasha declared as she slowly rearranged the collection of cards in her hand. "But it's kinda fun being stuck inside with y'all."

"That's because you're drunk," Jenny noted, waiting for her play. "I'm sittin' here worried that these two are gonna climb on top of the table at any minute now," she added, referring to the newly-revealed lovebirds sitting adjacent to them.

Michonne broke her gaze – or perhaps daze was more appropriate – with Rick as she heard her friend's dig. "That's very funny," she smirked, gently kicking her leg. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"If you're trying to play footsie, you've got the wrong person."

"Shut up," she giggled, shaking her head.

"And if you're tryin' to imply someone's distracted, you should be talkin' to your partner," Rick submitted as they continued to wait for Sasha to take her turn. "I thought I was slow."

"You are," Michonne quipped.

"Are we not winning?"

She immediately yielded, as there was no denying that. Not that she needed any more proof, but him being a good Spades partner boded well for their relationship. "You right."

He chuckled as he sipped on his rum, while the three of them stared at Sasha impatiently. His gaze began to scan the full room for the kids, finding their quietness suspicious, especially considering he owed them a game of Go Fish, but he ended up smiling to himself as he noticed them in a corner, reading by candlelight. "This feels like a lock-in," he commented, also noticing the Monopoly game going on across the foyer. "You guys remember those?"

"What you know about lock-ins?" Jenny chuckled, relieved when Sasha finally threw out a card.

"Am I not supposed to know about them?"

"Oh, I just thought that was a Black thing," she shrugged.

"I don't even know what that is," Michonne interjected, feeling like she'd missed something, "so I don't think it is."

"We used to do them at our church, which was very Black," Sasha recalled with a giggle. "That's where all the sins were committed."

"We had 'em in high school, but it was the same," Rick agreed, shaking his head at the thought. "It's basically a big co-ed slumber party where you're 'locked in' the building."

"Oh, well that doesn't sound like asking for teenage pregnancy or anything," Michonne chuckled. "Jesus."

"That's probably why you don't hear about 'em anymore," Jenny nodded. "God knows I didn't have any business engaging in half the shit I did at those things."

"I'm pretty sure I gave my first handjob at a lock-in," Sasha whispered before laughing at herself.

"Bitch, in church?" Michonne nearly yelled as the rest of the table joined in on the laughter. "Is this what you did?" she asked of the remaining two.

Jenny shrugged innocently, looking over to Rick as he took another sip of his drink before clearing his throat. "Mine wasn't a  _hand_  job, but… yeah," he admitted, starting to blush – thankfully, the dim room masked his change in color.

Michonne's eyes widened with recognition as she laughed, both flabbergasted and enjoying that even after all these years, there were still things she had to learn about Rick. "I didn't realize I was sitting with a bunch of heathens."

"Oh, I don't think you wanna start handing out morality lessons," Jenny smirked at her knowingly.

"I know you're not talking about me," she playfully dismissed her before chugging down some of her margarita. "I was with the same person for damn near my whole life."

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you secretly married to Mike when you were suckin' on his dick in public places?"

"Jennifer!" Michonne shrieked, inadvertently spitting her drink from her mouth while Rick and Sasha cackled along with her.

"Whenever we went to our usual bar," Jenny went on to explain to Sasha, "the two of them would always 'sneak' off to the bathroom like nobody was supposed to notice," she teasingly rolled her eyes. "Doctor Mike had his own head doctor."

"I hate you so much," Michonne continued giggling, feeling warm from the alcohol and the embarrassment. "But at least it wasn't in church."

Rick simply looked on in amusement as he tried his best not to let his mind wander. But the thought of Michonne and those absolutely perfect lips of hers sucking him off was impossible to resist. "I think I need another drink," he sighed, resting his emptied glass on the table.

"You better pace yourself," she warned, gazing at him cheekily. "We've got a game to win."

"Don't worry, I got this."

Michonne felt herself get a little tingly at the confidence in his twang and she realized maybe she was the one that needed to slow it down. Then again, she always felt that way with Rick. He was right about the sexual tension between them never fully dissipating. Now that it was becoming a reality, she sometimes felt like she was going to explode. "Maybe I should get refills," she offered, beginning to push back from the table. "Should we do a quick break?"

"I didn't wanna say it, but I was starving," Sasha confessed.

"We just ate like an hour ago."

"Which is why I didn't wanna say it," she shot back, already leaving her seat to find the buffet of food waiting in the dining room.

Michonne followed suit, collecting their glasses before leaving Rick with a quick shoulder caress. Smiling happily to herself as she made her way into the kitchen, which was a mess compared to the spotless space she usually kept. But if anything was proof that she was learning to let loose, it was the fact that she didn't care. Mixing her cocktails as she listened to the laughter that echoed throughout the floor. The mood was so light despite the darkness. Moments like this were precisely why she'd moved to Anguilla. They were also a reminder that she would miss the hell out of these people when they went back to Atlanta.

Set to rejoin her friends, she stuffed her mouth with a handful of plantain chips before grabbing their drinks. But on her way back, passing the pool, she noticed the familiar figure of her ex sitting solitarily on the veranda; not unlike the way she found Jessie earlier, staring into oblivion. Looking lonely, despite being surrounded by a compound full of people. She'd invited him there so he wouldn't have to feel excluded, but her anger with him hadn't allowed her to actually include him. With a sigh, she set down her drinks and went to the front door to bother him. "Are you brooding?" she asked loudly, the heavy rainfall still nearly drowning out her voice. "You know you shouldn't be out here."

Mike immediately chuckled, because he knew from just those three words and their brazen tone that she'd been drinking. "Not at all. Just… observing." Hearing her footsteps approach, he turned and watched as she took a seat on the steps with him, surprised by the gesture. "Even covered in rain, this place is really beautiful," he commented, surveying the gloomy scene.

She wasn't sure it was appropriate to thank him, as she had nothing to do with the beauty of the island. "It makes me happy," she eventually said, agreeing.

"You are happy here, huh?" he noted, glancing back at her. Even now, with all her undoubtedly detailed plans for the week ruined, she looked happy as a clam. He wasn't used to seeing her like this anymore. "When you said what you were gonna do, I thought you'd lost your mind."

"I know you did," she smirked, watching as heavy raindrops pounded into her pool. "Everybody did."

"Not everyone," he sent back, shaking his head. "My mama thought it would be good for you."

"She didn't tell me that," Michonne frowned, thinking back to the last conversation she'd had with her mother-in-law before leaving. "She seemed disappointed, actually."

"Her disappointment wasn't with you," he chuckled quietly. Glumly. "You know you could do no wrong in her eyes."

"Her favorite child," she grinned, recalling all the times Ava Boykin playfully insulted her biological children in favor of her daughter-in-law. "That's nice to know," she nodded appreciatively. "I never wanted anyone to think my leaving was a reflection of how I felt about them."

"Except for me, huh?" he smirked.

"See, I knew you were out here sulking," she poked his back as she laughed.

"Nah, I came to terms with that a long time ago," he smiled back at her. "I mean, I thought you were just running away. Figured you'd get bored and come back home. But when you didn't..."

"Well I  _was_  running away," she could admit. "After everything that happened, not just with you, but with Lori, I didn't want my life anymore. But you should've known me well enough to know that when I commit to something, I do it."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," he granted, thinking of how she committed to even him for much longer than she probably should've. "Wishful thinking, I guess."

"You're the one that ran away from your marriage," she appended, knowing it was harsh to say. But she was too inebriated to mince words at the moment. "And I waited, like a dumbass, for you to get bored and come back home."

"I wasn't the same after Mrs. Blake," he was also willing to confess, referring to the worst moment of his career, resulting in malpractice allegations and general fall from grace. "I spent too much time trying to recover from that, and not enough on you and our son. I found something I was good at, and I stopped caring about anything else."

She scoffed, wishing it hadn't taken him three years to admit that. After insisting that he was providing for a family that didn't need anything from him but presence. "Well I'm glad you found something that made you feel useful," she told him sincerely. "I'm sorry I couldn't."

"And I'm sorry I wasn't Rick," he submitted, looking back to her for her reaction.

"And we were having such a nice conversation," she sighed, shaking her head.

"I thought we were having an honest one."

She should've seen this coming, given what Rick told her, but it didn't rattle her any less whenever someone broached the subject. Mainly because it added fuel to the idea that Lori knew, which was her worst nightmare – especially because there wasn't a damn thing she could say to her about it now. "…No, you're right," she conceded, figuring he deserved full disclosure if nothing else. "I'm not gonna pretend there was nothing there. We had feelings for each other that seemed intent on rearing their ugly heads every now and then. And if you felt that, I really am sorry," she spoke quietly but earnestly. "But I didn't need you to be Rick. I was with  _you_."

"But was it because you couldn't be with him?"

She shook her head again as she honestly thought about the answer to his question. "I could've been with Rick. I could've blown up my life twenty years ago. I could've said, 'Fuck you and Lori' and probably made my life a lot easier in the end," she smiled sadly. "But that wasn't what I wanted."

"Twenty years ago, huh?" He nodded at the confirmation that his assumptions were all accurate.

Michonne shrugged. "I didn't ask for any of this, Mike. I did the best I could. I did what I thought was right."

"Yeah, you always do," Mike smirked, looking back out to the falling rain. He couldn't even imagine what it was like for her, living with that secret for two decades. "I mean, what was it like to be around him all that time?" he asked. "You two must have been alone together a lot."

"I never cheated on you, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking," he retorted. "I do know you well enough to know you wouldn't do that. I'm asking how it felt to be so close to someone you… couldn't be close to?"

"I dunno," she sighed, not wanting to delve into that. He was really harshing her buzz here. "You just… push it down."

"Mm." He absently rubbed at his stubble, wondering how she managed to do that. "Because it felt like shit for me," he revealed. "Hanging out with Rick, week in, week out, wondering if he was the reason you didn't love me anymore."

"Mike," she whispered, feeling tears stinging her eyes. For the first time, feeling like she had a part to play in the dissolution of her marriage. "I never meant… I mean, it doesn't matter what I meant," she murmured, mostly to herself. "But I'm sorry that you knew."

He nodded, allowing her apology to hang in the air for several minutes. He didn't intend to bring her down – he knew she was in a good mood, and he'd ruined so many of those over the years, the last thing he wanted was to do it again. It was why he was sitting outside in the first place. But he needed closure if he was ever going to move on from her. And as it became clear that she and Rick were going to be… something, he was going to  _have_  to move on. "I don't wanna fight with you, 'Chonne," he offered quietly, referring to their impending divorce. "I don't wanna end our relationship in a courtroom."

Michonne swallowed hard, feeling a tear slide down her cheek as she gazed at the back of his head, sighing with relief. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I hope you get what you always wanted," he nodded again, looking back at her genuinely. "Whether it's here or it's him…"

She cocked her head to the side, her sympathetic gaze still thanking him and she reached out to gently touch his back, her thumb stroking his shoulder. "You'll always be his father," she declared reassuringly. "Rick can't take that from you."

"Yeah," he replied, closing his eyes as she touched him for what would likely be the last time. He reached up to rest his hand on top of hers, feeling the lifetime of history between them, hoping that it wouldn't dissipate as they grew apart; that their divorce wouldn't erase them.

"You mind if I sit here with you for a minute?" she asked, not ready to go back to the party just yet. She needed to give this moment some space to breathe. So much had happened in the course of 24 hours,  _she_ needed some space to breathe. And she couldn't think of a better place than in the comfort of Mike's presence.

He smiled at the idea that she wasn't ready to leave him for Rick just yet. "I don't mind at all."

* * *

It was another hour before Michonne returned to the group, her card game having ended and Rick gone from the lounge where their kids and most of their friends were gathered. A quick search led her to find him in a secluded nook overlooking the ocean, another hammock in place for guests' leisure. He looked so peaceful resting there quietly, his eyes closed as he'd likely drifted off to sleep, she almost hated to disturb him. But she wanted to join him. "Move," she said, lightly pinching his forearm to stir him.

His eyes fluttered open, knowing it was her touch, but instinct made him want to see for himself. "Hey," he cleared his throat, shifting himself to allow her into the hammock. Smiling as she rested her body practically on top of his and he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame. All the pretenses had been dropped, it seemed. "You disappeared on us," he said, referring to their Spades game. "I had to find backup."

"Who did you get," her eyes narrowed as she waited for him to answer – if he said Shane, she was going to kick him out of their spot at once.

"Carol," he sighed, rolling his eyes at the feat it turned into once they started playing. "We still won, but just barely."

"I'm sorry," she chuckled against him, suddenly feeling that warm and tingly sensation again. "I saw Mike sitting outside and I ended up talking to him much longer than I intended."

"About what?"

"Us," she admitted, shrugging. "It was kind of all-encompassing, end-of-a-relationship type stuff."

Rick scoffed at the thought, but she seemed to be in a fine mood, so perhaps it was a better outcome than he was imagining. "And how'd it go?"

"Good, I think," she nodded again, running her fingers over the hair on the arm he had draped across her torso. "It was more than I was expecting to get into, but in the end, he said he doesn't wanna fight. So I think it was what I needed to hear."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Between that conversation and the one with Jessie, I feel much lighter."

He smirked at her acknowledgement, as it sounded like she was saying he was right in the end. "So you mean my little confession at the table last night worked out well?"

"I am not going that far," she giggled. "It was still obnoxious as hell."

"By 'obnoxious', I think you mean bold. And clever. And romantic."

"I mean none of those things, actually."

"All right," he granted, grinning contentedly as he gazed at the side of her face. "It's been a lot for you today, you don't have to admit this, too. Baby steps."

"You're ridiculous," Michonne continued to laugh, that tingling feeling dialing up to ten when Rick's hand briefly grazed her breast and she felt her nipples immediately harden in response. She was so horny for him, she could damn near taste it, wishing she could abandon her responsibilities and safety precautions to take him upstairs right then. She wasn't sure how much longer she could wait. "Would it be weird if I asked you out on a date?" she wondered, turning her head so that it rested in the crook of his neck. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, which was soothing.

"Not at all," he replied, the smile apparent in his voice as his fingers gently caressed the warm flesh of her stomach. "You know I've been waiting for this moment since 1995, right?"

"You have to stop saying that," she laughed. "It makes us sound like horrible people."

"When's this date?"

"I was thinking… Saturday?" she said, recalling Jessie's offer. Carl could babysit, but at least she knew an adult would be around in case of emergency. And they were in desperate need of alone time before this vacation ended. "Just the two of us," she made sure to say. "I wanna take you to this dance hall in Sandy Ground."

Rick normally would've bristled at the idea of spending his New Year's Eve trying to dance. But he couldn't think of a better way to spend the end of the year and starting a new one than with Michonne, dancing the night away. "It's a date."

She grinned at the thought, in a bit of disbelief that this was all actually, finally happening. She just hoped it wasn't too good to be true. "It's a date."


	14. Wild Thoughts

"So where are you guys going tonight?"

"Out," Michonne answered her godson ambiguously, not wanting to reveal too much about her plans with Rick – primarily because they involved activities that made for unsuitable discussion for children. "We'll have phones if you need anything."

"But Jessie is gonna be right around the corner and Shane and everyone else will be right down the beach," Rick reminded him. Though he spoke to all three of their children as they sat in front of him, each of them responsible for keeping the information in mind.

"Okay, Daddy," Judith nodded, her mouth full of a bright yellow cupcake.

"And we don't know what time we'll be back," he added, "so please don't call to ask."

"I feel like if anyone should have a curfew, it should be parents," Carl smirked. "You can't just leave your kids and say, 'Oh, I dunno when we'll be back.'"

"We can and… we are," Michonne assured him with a sweet smile, crumbling a piece of his dessert into her hand to take for herself. "As far as you're concerned, you'll see us tomorrow."

Instead of hearing what she'd said, Carl watched, unamused, as his share of the delicacy was immediately cut in half. "You're really just gonna take my cupcake like that?"

"We always share," she returned, chewing at the red velvet treat. "Don't you start acting funny now."

"Fair enough," he relented, sighing; scanning the table for the various flavors they had left. Somehow, they'd ended up deciding on cupcakes for dinner, and Michonne being the overachiever that she was, supplied them with a plethora of options to choose from. "Who had the banana one?" he asked. "I wanted to try that."

Andre raised his hand, as his mouth was too full to speak. But he pushed his plate in Carl's direction, trading it for his mother's kiwi one. "Mommy, how come you guys aren't going to the beach party?" he wondered before taking another bite. He recalled her saying it was for adults and was confused as to why she would then skip it.

"Well," Michonne started, looking to Rick for an answer. But then she figured the truth was simple enough. "I just wanted to be alone with Rick," she said, cocking her head to the side as she waited for him to respond.

"Are you gonna get married?" Judith asked casually, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth.

"Maybe," Rick answered diplomatically, unsure where she would go with the conversation if he answered as affirmatively as he wanted to. "We'll have to see what happens."

"Then you'll get to lay on top of each other in the bed," she went on to explain as if they wouldn't know. "And sometimes you can do wrestling, too."

Michonne looked at Andre suspiciously, waiting for him to chime in with his own version of events, while Rick peered at Carl, wondering if, for some reason, he'd managed to corrupt his sister. None of them quite knew how to respond.

"Where did you hear about all this?" Rick questioned her. He knew she'd never caught him in the act with Lori, but she had to have come up with it somehow.

"At school," she answered, thinking that rather obvious. "Zadie told me."

Rick glanced at Michonne, the two of them sharing a smirk as he considered that she would be homeschooled once they moved to Anguilla – another check in the 'pro' column for his decision. "And why were you and Zadie talking about this?" he prodded, trying not to laugh. He could tell Michonne and Carl were, too.

"Because she saw her mommy and daddy wrestling and they told her all about it."

He nodded in response before stuffing another piece of cake into his mouth, mainly to stop himself from saying something terrible about Zadie's parents.

"Well," Michonne cut in once she could get past her utter amusement, "every marriage is different. So Zadie probably shouldn't have told you that about her parents."

"Oh," Judith replied, disappointed that she might have received bad information. "Well would we all get to live together?"

"If we decide to get married," Michonne nodded, "yes. Of course."

She smiled at that answer as she stared at the rollers in her godmother's hair; thinking about how she'd probably get to play dress-up with her someday. Michonne had already given her a manicure that morning, but she was very much looking forward to the whole thing – having a full-time mommy. If they did get married, of course.

"Will we live here?" Andre asked as he realized that his whole life was going to be rearranged yet again. As much as he wanted Judith and Rick and Carl to be around, he also didn't want to leave Anguilla. Not when he'd just gotten used to it.

"We would," Rick assured him, nodding too. "Your mom's business is here, so the three of us would move here."

"What about your business, Dad?" Carl submitted, recalling Michonne wondering the same. Which was a valid question.

"I'd probably sell my share," he revealed, feeling a bit strange – a bit wistful – as the words came out of his mouth. It would be a sacrifice, for sure, but one he considered worthwhile to be there with Michonne. "That's a discussion I have to have with Shane at some point."

"Daddy, is Carl gonna live with us, too?" Judith asked. She knew there had been a lot of discussion about him going off to college soon, wherever that was.

"It depends on what Carl wants to do," Rick answered, gazing at his unwitting son. "We can talk to your grandmother about taking you for junior and senior year."

"What about Shane and Andrea?" he suggested – he would much rather live with them than his 65-year-old grandmother. "They live way closer to my school, you know."

"They're also gonna have newborns in a couple months," Michonne reminded him. "I don't think they need an extra child to take care of."

"But I'll be driving soon. I could even help them."

"We'll see," Rick replied noncommittally. "We have a lot to work out, which is why we don't want any of you to think this is gonna happen immediately. It'll probably be next Christmas before everything is settled."

"Next Christmas?" Judith exclaimed in disbelief. If there's one thing she knew about life, it was that Christmas always took  _forever_  to come around. "Why does it have to be so far away?"

"Well, because we have a lot to work out," Michonne tried to explain it simply when she knew it wasn't simple. "You guys have a life in Atlanta, and we have a life here, and it takes time to put those together. It's like putting a  _huge_ puzzle together."

"But it's gonna happen, right?" Carl pressed. He was starting to feel unsettled by all the unknowns in their conversation. "Like even if you don't get married, you're gonna be together?"

Rick frowned at the question, but nodded as he stole some of Judith's cupcake. "That's the plan."

"We don't know what's going to happen tomorrow," Michonne added, her mouth full as she gazed at Rick. His confidence in them was almost jarring when it wasn't adorable, but she wanted to keep everyone's expectations realistic. "But that is the plan."

"Grammy says God laughs at our plans," Andre inserted, feeling like it was a good time to ask what his grandmother meant by that. "What does that mean?"

Michonne could only laugh, knowing that sounded precisely like something her mother would say. "It just means things don't always go the way you want or expect them to."

"It sounds like you're saying you might not get married…"

Rick could detect the worry in the kids' voices and their line of questioning, so he decided to take control of the situation. "Listen to me," he said firmly though his voice stayed quiet. "Michonne and I are goin' on a date tonight. It's the very first step in the whole thing," he said, looking each of them in the eye. "And you have to take the first step before you take the second one, right?"

"Right," Judith nodded knowingly, having heard that gem from her father before.

"So we're gonna do this. And after that, we'll see what happens. Okay?"

"Okay," Carl agreed for the three of them, taking a sip of his juice as he looked at Michonne and then his dad, figuring they knew what they were doing. "Cool."

And as the five of them returned to their dinner of cupcakes and conversation, Michonne couldn't help but stare at Rick, in love with, well, everything about him; but in that moment, the way he spoke to their kids. So effortlessly and honestly, serving as a reminder of what a good father he was. How she couldn't wait to start their lives together. Starting with that first and, hopefully, second step that very night. "Okay," she smirked.

* * *

Michonne took a deep breath when she heard the knock at her front door, knowing that Rick would be waiting on the other side. She'd been waiting for this moment for half her life, and now that it was here, the butterflies in her stomach were running rampant. It was an unexpected reaction, but it was also kind of nice that she could still feel nervous about someone she'd known for so long; someone she knew better than anyone. But perhaps that was  _why_  she was so nervous – this was brand new territory for them.

"I'll be right there," she called down, staring at her reflection in the closet mirror. She felt overdressed, despite being scantily clad, but for her first date with Rick, she wanted to look good. Sexy. And that she did – sporting a royal blue dress that contoured to her shape and stopped mid-thigh, just sheer enough to be titillating to her date as she was going braless, but opaque enough for public decency. Her strappy gold heels wrapped sexily around her legs and matched the highlighted angles of her face, while her lips were painted a bright fuchsia to offset the blue. She looked like a New Year's Eve party personified – fun and fancy. "Don't fuck this up," she said to herself, still swallowing down her anxiousness.

She made her way downstairs, feeling like a twenty-year-old again as she went to meet this guy she liked. She swung the door open to find her date waiting with a vibrant bouquet of flowers, in quite the typical gentlemanly gesture – and Rick was nothing if not a gentleman. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her and then smiled wide, his blue eyes twinkling in the dimness of nightfall. "Hey," he chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what to say to someone who looked like she did.

"Hi," she grinned back, appreciatively accepting the flowers. He somehow looked more perfect now than he did an hour ago, his curls perfectly coiffed, and that gorgeous gray beard accentuating his tan skin. He kept it just the right amount of casual in a black t-shirt and his favorite expensive jeans, paired with a navy sports jacket that complemented both her dress and his beautiful eyes. "You look great," she told him, trying not to stare.

"There isn't a word for how you look," he shot back, definitely, unabashedly staring. Her dress was one thing – distracting in itself – but her entire look, from her wavy locs to her red-painted toes had him nearly speechless. "I mean that as a compliment, by the way."

"No, I got that," she nodded, taking a step back to set down her gift. "You ready?"

He let out a deep exhale this time, still in a bit of disbelief that this was all actually happening. But he'd waited so long for this very moment, there was no way to pretend he was anything but ready. "I don't think I've ever been more ready for anything."

She smiled at his honesty, thinking of how he'd always been that with her. How she loved him for it. "So I don't wanna drive, because I plan to get drunk tonight," she submitted with a cheeky grin. She was already feeling pretty good, just from sheer happiness, and it felt like she was floating as the two of them headed down to the lobby. "But I'm not walking in these heels either."

"So you want me to carry you is what you're sayin'?" he laughed, though in truth, he would've been happy to do exactly that.

"We can take a cab," she said with a gleeful roll of her eyes. "I'm just letting you know the game plan."

"I appreciate that."

"And I don't want you to be... put off when we get there," she appended, sending a hesitant glance back at him. "It might not be... quite what you're expecting."

Rick laughed nervously this time, as her crypticness was bordering on alarming. "Well I wasn't really expecting anything until you said that."

"I mean, I know I already told you it's not fancy, but it's... pretty much the opposite."

"So is it like a dive bar?"

"We can call it that," she granted with a slow nod. "Sure. A Caribbean dive bar..."

"Are you tryin' to scare me?" he questioned with a chuckle, the two of them finding their way outside and toward the street. "Because it's not gonna work."

"I'm trying to prepare you," she laughed back, linking her arm with his. "I know you're used to something a little… different."

"I'm not uncomfortable around Black people, you know."

"You're not uncomfortable with  _me_ ," she shot back.

"Or your family. Or Morgan and his family," he reminded her, but quickly realized he'd sound ridiculous rattling off every Black person he knew. "Please don't make me stand here and say, 'I have Black friends.'"

"Oh god, shut up," she giggled until her laughter forced her to snort. "Like I said, I just wanted to prepare you. This isn't the rich, stuffy crowd you're used to."

"I think that's the crowd  _you're_  used to, actually."

"Oh, is that right?"

"I'm not the one between us who grew up rich, so yeah."

"You're such an asshole," she grinned, shaking her head at that unsolicited bit of truth. "And my point remains. I'm the one who's bringing you here, so don't act funny."

"Fair enough," he relented, smiling almost uncontrollably as he took her hand. "I'll be good."

She smirked in response, a quirked eyebrow to match as she said, "I didn't ask you to do all that."

"You two have fun!" a familiar voice called out to them, startling them from their silly conversation.

Michonne immediately turned to the sound, finding Carol standing on her balcony just above them with a drink in her hand, obviously having started her New Year's celebration early. "You too, Carol," she grinned.

"Be safe," she added with a quick wave. "I'll be sure to leave some condoms in your room, okay!"

"Jesus," Rick chuckled, shaking his head at his friend.

"Thank you, Carol," Michonne sent back flatly, smiling at the side of Rick's face as she tried not to laugh, too. "I mean, at least we'll be ready when we get back."

"Might wanna get yourself some earplugs, too," Rick declared, turning back to her with a mischievous smile. "We're gonna be loud."

"Rick!" Michonne shrieked, albeit mostly in amusement. She offered a wave back to Carol as an apology for his brazenness, even though she probably enjoyed it, too. "I guess we'll see you tomorrow."

Carol looked on proudly, watching the two of them scurry across the street, hand-in-hand and laughing as they did. "Good for you." She said it to herself, but she meant it for both of them. They deserved this.

* * *

"So do you come here often?" Rick wondered out loud, scraping up the last bit of rice and peas from his empty plate. He laughed at himself as he recognized that sounded like a pickup line when he obviously didn't need one. "I mean is this gonna be our spot?"

"Not often," Michonne shook her head slowly, already feeling the effects of the alcohol she'd consumed. She smiled at the way Rick was so intent on clearing every morsel from his plate. "But it's one of the few places in town that isn't overrun by tourists, so…"

He nodded, seeing that as he looked around the crowded joint. Unsurprisingly, Michonne wasn't wrong about their destination being something Rick wasn't quite used to. The Pumphouse, as it was named, was a small, hole-in-the-wall kind of club. On the outside, it reminded him of the places back home that would be known for the best barbecue in town. But inside, a haze of marijuana smoke filled the hall, mixed with aroma of the most delicious foods. At the front, tables were set up, where patrons could eat said food, while a full on dance party raged in the back. Reggae music thumping throughout the place as bodies grinded and winded, all while holding onto big red Solo cups. The dress code ranged from casual to nearly naked, with many of the women in beach-like attire and little more. No, this was definitely no tourist spot.

"So that's why you didn't bring the rest of our friends," he guessed with a knowing grin.

"I wouldn't put it that way," she giggled in reply, "but… I suppose that's true."

"Then I'm glad you're trusting me with it."

"I trust you with everything," she answered genuinely, seemingly unable to stop smiling at him. "For as long as I can remember, really."

He nodded, feeling himself blushing as his eyes flitted downward, landing on Michonne's plate. "Probably not for that period of time where you stopped talking to me, though," he remarked, stealing one of the last two ribs from her plate.

Michonne narrowed her eyes at him, watching with mock disdain as he sat there and tore into the meat like it was his. "So you're just gonna take my food? Is that what we're doing now?"

"You were just letting it sit there," he defended himself, his mouth full of the tender pork. "I still left you one."

"All right," she conceded, her tone sarcastic but obviously playful as she could barely keep a straight face. "Just make sure you eat me like that when we get home."

Rick nearly choked on his food as her words hit him like a brick. But he loved the way she could catch him off guard, even all these years later. "That's if you don't kill me first," he coughed before it morphed into a laugh. "Shit."

"I'm just saying…"

"Well I haven't done… that in a while," he confessed, unable to even recall the last time in any real detail, "but I'm pretty sure I won't let you down."

"Oh, okay," she smirked, enjoying his ever-present confidence. She took a long sip from her cup of cognac, eyeing his lips as he licked them, along with his fingers. "How have you survived these last two years anyway?"

"How did I survive?" he repeated with a chuckle. "It's not like it was an apocalypse, you know. I just… didn't have sex."

"Yeah, but it couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't  _easy_ ," he granted, shrugging; his accent getting thicker as the alcohol hit him. "Went through a lot of lotion. A lotta porn."

Michonne giggled loudly, tickled by his candor. She never thought of him as particularly shy, but she always took notice when he showed himself to be quite the opposite. "So if I walk in on you watching porn, what's gonna be on your screen?" she questioned him. "And don't you dare say 'Ebony.'"

"I was thinkin' it," he admitted, letting out a hearty laugh as his face turned bright pink. "But no, that feels like more of a fetish—"

"Usually," she agreed, thinking of all the ridiculous things white men tended to say to her when they attempted to flirt with her.

"I don't really have a preference," he decided, gazing at her pointedly. "It's just… whatever catches my eye."

Michonne could tell that she'd obviously done just that, which made her smile yet again. "I see…" It also aroused her, sitting there under his stare, and she noticed her dress tighten across her chest as her nipples went rigid. Which also caught his eye. "It's hot in here," she noted, taking another sip of her drink, which only intensified all those warm, tingly feelings.

"I think it's the alcohol, sweetheart," he teased, his voice low as his gaze consumed her.

"I think it's you," she shot back flirtatiously, finishing off the contents of her cup before setting it inside his empty one. "Maybe we should go."

"Go?" Rick frowned. They'd barely been out an hour, so he couldn't imagine she wanted to leave. But he also wasn't going to protest if she did – not when the only thing on his mind for the past hour had been pulling that dress off of her. "Are you sure?"

"I meant go dance," she chuckled, detecting his confusion as he checked his phone for the time. "If you're done, I mean. There's always a wait for a table, so..."

"Right," he grinned awkwardly, standing from his seat as well. "After you," he offered, gesturing for her to go ahead of him. Watching as she strutted past, those curves of hers on full display, making his mouth literally water.

_I don't know if you could take it  
_ _Know you wanna see me naked, naked, naked_

"I need one more drink before I go out there," Rick called out over the music as they reached the bar of the crowded hall. He stared at the sea of people swaying in perfect rhythm to the beats, and he was rather certain he was going to look out of place amongst them, if not utterly stupid. If he was going to do this, he needed to be drunk when he did it.

"Don't be a pussy," she teased him, though she typically hated the pejorative use of the word. But the liquor and the flirting had her feeling rather audacious. "It's just dancing," she remarked as if it were simple. And to her, it was. "If you can fuck, you can dance."

He smirked at her explicit language, finding it to be an unexpected turn-on. Not that he needed any other reasons to be attracted to her – her provocations were only making it worse. "Is that right?"

Michonne shrugged before quickly ordering a couple more Hennessy's for the two of them. "Well sex is a bit like a dance, don't you think?" She licked her lips as her drunken gaze focused on his throat, resisting every impulse she had to kiss it. "Two bodies, impossibly close, moving to their own rhythm…"

Rick let out a sharp exhale as he had to remind himself that they were in a room full of people. Because all he wanted to do was pull that dress down her perfect frame until it fell to the floor; already envisioning their naked bodies doing said dance. "Mmm," he quietly returned, barely audible over the music.

"Just work your hips, you'll be fine."

"You assume I can do that much."

"I'm hoping you can do that much, or we might have some problems later," she grinned, turning to accept their new serving of alcohol. She took a quick sip, just as the music began to change into a mashup of "Boombastic" and "Baby Boy" and she practically squealed with delight. "Hurry up and drink," she directed him.

Watching her gulp down the strong liquor, he had to wonder what the rush was as he followed her instruction. "What are we doin'?"

"This is our song, Rick!"

It took him a moment to place the actual track given the DJ's remixing, but as Beyoncé's voice permeated the room, he was instantly transported back to the 27-year-old version of himself, dancing with Michonne to this song only in his mind. He didn't even know she'd registered the moment as significant, but a smile tugged at his tingling lips as he recognized that she had. "So I guess we're dancin', huh?"

Amused that he'd given in so easily, she dropped her finished cup to the bar, Rick following suit before she took his hand into hers, leading him to a tiny, unused corner of the dance floor. She considered herself joking when she spoke on it earlier, but truthfully, most of the floor's occupants looked like they were mid-fuck. Skirts pulled above waists, crotches grinding together. It was a clothed orgy that Michonne was happy to join. Letting go of Rick's hand, she turned her back to him and began to gyrate her hips, slowly backing up until her body made contact with his. She smiled to herself as his hands immediately found her waist, their bodies' meeting feeling completely natural to her. With her ass pressed against him, she began to grind seductively to the beat – slowly, so as not to lose him, but he seemed just fine keeping up. Following her lead and her suggestion, he treated their dance like sex, rolling his hips in time with hers. And her short dress offered little cover, making it feel as though it was her naked ass rubbing against his dick, her soft flesh jiggling with the drum's beat. Once again, he was in paradise.

_I wanna be your baby, baby, baby  
_ _Spinning and it's wet just like it came from Maytag_

Michonne smirked happily as she felt his noticeable erection against her backside, thrust between her cheeks as they continued their slow grind. She bent over to allow him the full view of her ass at work, but only made things worse for herself as that bulge began to graze her pussy while his hands squeezed her as she worked. His fingers grazed her skin as her dress hiked itself up and she felt wet and on fire at the same time.

Standing upright again, she rested her back against his chest so that they stayed impossibly close, even as she switched up her rhythm, knowing he'd be caught off guard once she started to bounce her ass, mimicking the beat of the drums. She used the power of her hips to back him into the closest wall and allowed the alcohol and the moment to take over her body.

_White girl wasted on that brown liquor  
_ _When I get like this I can't be around you_

Rick felt like he was going to die with all that ass twerking on him, and nothing to do in response but stand there and take it. He was mesmerized by the fluidity of her hips, the way her backside seemed to move independent from the rest of her body, how she switched effortlessly from one move to another, then another. His hand slipped slowly down her torso until it was gripping her waist – mostly in an effort to hold on for the ride – but he was in a trance. Watching her move was a pleasure in itself, but being on the receiving end of this seductive dance was something else entirely.

Michonne had no intention of stopping either, finding herself in a zone as the song began to mix with "Murder She Wrote" and the floor became even more crowded. The room was stuffy, but in a good way – the way where it was clear that everyone in it was having fun. She could feel the sweat beginning to bead at her hairline, and another couple took position just in front of her, only making it hotter. Still, she continued to work Rick like it was her job. Hands on her knees, she popped her hips to the beat, her tits spilling from her top as she moved, all while Rick's hard cock rubbed against her. It all felt so fucking good. For the first time in a long time, every single part of her felt alive.

 _I'm too lit to dim down a notch  
_ ' _Cause I could name some things that I'm gon' do_

As her thighs began to burn from the workout, she turned to face her partner, a smirk still on her face as she took in the expression on his. He looked to be in pain and pleasure at the same time, which amused her to no end. "You havin' fun?" she shouted over the music, cupping his face.

"Maybe a little too much," he nodded, immediately noticing her exposed breast; licking his lips as he pulled her dress back into place for her. "But I also can't wait to go home."

"Just a little while longer," she grinned in agreement, locking her arm around his neck before starting to roll her hips again. He immediately responded in kind so that their bodies were pressed together and his dick was grinding against her pussy. The heat between them didn't compare to anything else in the room – twenty years of pent up sexual energy made them an inferno. Rick's hands slid down her back until he was groping her ass, squeezing at her luscious flesh until his hands were inside her panties. He wanted so desperately to take them off and just fuck right there. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure what they were doing didn't qualify as sex.

_Wild, wild, wild  
_ _Wild, wild, wild thoughts_

As Michonne continued to let her inhibitions take control, she found herself locking her leg around Rick's waist, not breaking the stride of their dance. The other leg instinctively followed so that she was wrapped around him, riding him like a pony. She could feel his lips on her skin, pressed against her collarbone as their bodies thrusted together. His touch had her so wet she could feel it on her panties. She wasn't sure she could make it home before giving him a try. And by the feel of things, he wouldn't either. "Rick," she whispered, squeezing his dampened curls in her hand.

He pulled back to look at her, his eyes drawn to her beautifully plump lips as he felt her slide from his body. "You ready to go?" he guessed.

"To the bathroom," she nodded, closing her eyes. It was so hot she could barely stand, but she welcomed the feeling of his warm breath on her face.

He wasn't entirely sure, but he was guessing that she wanted him to come with her. And he happily took her hand, the two of them maneuvering through the swaying crowd until they reached the small, unisex restroom located at the very back of the hall.

_Wild, wild, wild  
_ _When I'm with you all I get it wild thoughts_

The two of them rushed into an empty stall, Rick pinning Michonne against the rattling door just as his tongue pushed into her mouth. Her deliciously hot mouth with lips that felt like tiny pillows, their drunken kiss more potent than all the alcohol in the place combined. The thump of the music managed to drown out the sound of their tongues smacking and the heavy breaths that accompanied it, but they didn't care to keep any of this a secret.

And Michonne didn't care to waste any time, her fingers frantically and blindly fumbling to find Rick's pants. She smiled through their kiss as she palmed his dick, the size of the rock hard bulge taking her by surprise. It was ample enough on the dance floor, but it'd grown exponentially in just minutes. And she rubbed at it still, over his jeans, as she wrestled with his belt. "Can I?" she pulled away to ask, though she had a pretty good idea of what his answer would be.

Rick pressed his forehead against hers, nodding because his throbbing erection wouldn't allow him to speak. He didn't even know what she was about to do, but he was open to anything. Everything, if she wanted it. His breathing hitched when he felt his pants loosen and her warm fingers slipped into his boxers, pulling his rigid cock from the fabric. He closed his eyes at the simple act – he hadn't been touched like this in actual years. He was scared he was going to explode before she could even get started. "Michonne," he whispered shakily.

"You okay?" she asked. She hoped. She was so close, she hated to stop now.

He answered with another kiss, needing the distraction of her lips to keep him from bursting at the seams. He ravished her mouth with his tongue while her hand gently massaged his dick between them. Slowly but deftly, as he quietly moaned into her mouth, she worked him to a full erection. His hands instinctively pulled her hips closer, then found their way to her ass, feeling both flesh and fabric as he squeezed her supple cheeks, pressing himself against her. He wasn't sure what was happening – even in his inebriated state, he was fairly certain neither one of them wanted their first time to be in the dingy bathroom of some club – but she was so fucking sexy, he didn't want to stop. And neither did she, it seemed, as she continued to stroke him and his swollen balls. As his fingers slipped further between her thighs and felt her moistened panties, he hesitantly pulled back, giving her full lips a good sucking before letting go. His breaths were as heavy as his heartbeat. "We're doin' this?" he whispered.

_I hope you know I'm for the taking  
_ _You know this cookie's for the baking_

Michonne nodded briefly as she tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving against his. Her nipples were so tight, they felt like they were going to tear through her dress; and her pussy was pulsing and wet – she was certain she would feel it dripping down her thighs soon. "I'm doing this," she said, licking her lips, pushing his pants down until they fell.

She kept her eyes on his, both of their gazes swimming with excitement and intoxication as Michonne dropped to her knees. As she pulled his boxers to the floor with her, she took in the sight of him for the first time. Long, thick, and pink, protruding from his hips like it was just waiting to be sucked. The head was glistening in the faint light with pre-cum, and she wasted no time licking it up. She'd been desperate to taste him for years, and now, here she was. He was surprisingly sweet, she noted, and his slightly salty skin made for a delicious contrast. She smiled as he stumbled at her tongue's touch, knowing she was about to drive him crazy.

With Rick watching her every move, his mouth hanging open, Michonne took his full length into her hand and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock, sucking at it him a giant straw. Both of them moaned in response as she rolled her tongue around him, then began to swallow him down. "Michonne," he whispered, barely able to remain upright as the sensation of her hot tongue sent him into a haze. Her saliva coating his dick as she inhaled him like a goddamn vacuum. "Fuck," he groaned. He felt one of her hands on his balls, her fingers gently massaging the tight sac as she sucked and he felt like they were going to explode in her hands. It'd been so long, and even before his wife died, the closest they got to public sex acts was in their car after parking in the garage. One date into their relationship and Michonne was taking him places he'd never been before. He felt high as he listened to her mercilessly suck and slurp on his dick, her head bobbing frantically as her mouth covered every inch of him.

 _Kitty kitty, baby give that thing some rest  
_ ' _Cause you done beat it like the '68 Jets_

Michonne felt similarly inebriated as she sucked him from tip to balls, her pussy doing backflips as her tongue rolled over every vein of his cock, leaving traces of bright pink lipstick everywhere, marking her man. As she imagined his thick girth inside of her, rubbing against her clit every time he pushed into her, she could feel herself creaming; could smell her own arousal as she satisfied his. Her hands continued to stroke his long shaft while she licked at his scrotum, sucking on his balls like candy while his cum dribbled from the tip. She felt it land on her tits, but it didn't break her stride – in fact it only turned her on more, her nipples growing tight again as she thought about him licking it off of her. Her long fingers briefly rested on his wildly contracting stomach, then trailed down to his pubic hair as her lips returned their attention to his cock.

Rick was uselessly gripping at the stall walls as she nearly swallowed him whole, the tip of his dick reaching the back of her throat. Her mouth was magic, rotating in ways that shouldn't have been possible. "'Chonne," he grunted, just barely getting out a syllable as his eyes closed and he allowed himself to release. "Shit."

Michonne was surprised by the sudden sensation of his full cum on her tongue, but she welcomed it as it filled her mouth, still sweet to the taste but thicker, more potent. She wiped the remnants from her mouth and then licked it from her hand before continuing to suck his cock. She wanted to milk every drop she could, knowing it'd been a while for him. Knowing there would be more where that came from once they got back home. She tugged at her nipple as she finished him off, and she realized her own panties were soaked all the way through – she'd enjoyed this as much as he had. She looked up at him, her big brown eyes swallowing him as she smiled in satisfaction. Because this was just the beginning.

_I know I get wild, wild, wild_  
_Wild, wild, wild thoughts_  
_Wild, wild, wild  
_ _When I'm with you all I get it wild thoughts_

* * *

The short cab ride home felt endless for Rick and Michonne as they did everything in their power not to have sex right there in the back of some strange car. Of course that didn't stop them from getting a taste of one another. While everyone else was getting ready to ring in the new year, the two of them were only concerned with one another. With Michonne's legs splayed across Rick's lap, the two of them made out like teenagers; his hand slipping into her panties, fingering her wet folds while she sucked at his lips. She tried to keep her moans to a minimum, but he was going to town on her clit, massaging her engorged bud like a pro, and she was powerless to keep her voice down, thereby giving them away.

"You can't do that in here," the cab driver called back to them, his English accent making him sound all the more serious. "You'll need to pay to have my seats cleaned."

"Sorry," Michonne giggled, pulling from their kiss in an attempt to be good. But she could see in Rick's eyes that he had no intention of stopping just because the driver told him to.

"We'll pay whatever you want," he promised, licking his lips as he went for her mouth once more. Her tongue tasted of him and Hennessy – a strange and intoxicating combination that made him want to taste more of her. All of her. And his fingers said as much as they pushed into her warm, wet pussy, dripping like a drink itself. "Are we goin' to my place or yours?" he questioned, his kisses moving down her neck, sucking at her skin as he waited for her reply.

"I don't care," she managed to breathe, her short nails digging into his thigh as he mercilessly finger-fucked her. "We sh…" Her mouth hung open as her orgasm loomed, all while she tried to finish her sentence. "We should find—fuck," she mewled, reaching out for the headrest in front of her as a brief climax rippled through her, making her tremble against him.

"We really might have to get these seats cleaned," Rick grinned, feeling her cum coat his fingers; the sweet smell permeating the back of the car. "You okay?"

Michonne started to nod, trying not to laugh at their shamelessness as she waited for her heart to resume its normal beat. "Barely," she admitted, shaking her head as her inebriated gaze surveyed the familiar streets, realizing they were pulling up to her compound. And she wanted to believe that it was some drunken haze that had her seeing red blinking lights as they approached; maybe some part of the New Year's festivities that she wasn't aware of. But her heart began to race once more as it became clear that she was actually seeing ambulance lights. "Rick," she spoke abruptly, the panic already evident in her voice.

He'd noticed the emergency vehicles too, already sitting up straight for a better view as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. They both took note of the three missed calls between Carl and Carol. His hands were shaking as he tried to unlock his phone, just hoping he'd still be able to get in touch with his son. "If it were one of the kids, they would've called more than that," he tried to rationalize for her and himself.

Michonne knew that made sense, but it didn't help her nerves much. Nothing would help until she knew they were all alright. "You can let us out right here," she announced, seeing the ambulance wasn't going to allow them much farther. She couldn't and didn't wait for Rick to pay, rushing out of the cab before it even came to a full stop. Because playtime was over, and she was already thinking about how she would never forgive herself if something happened to Andre while she was off pretending she didn't have a care in the world. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she mumbled, sprinting up the sidewalk despite her heels.

As she made it to the front of the B&B, she could see the commotion inside – paramedics strapping someone to a gurney while Shane and Mike helped, and her heart dropped to her feet because she couldn't see the kids anywhere. "Rick, hurry up," she screamed, not wanting to go inside without him. But he seemed to be taking his sweet time, and she wasn't sure why he wasn't more concerned.

"It's Andrea," he called back to her, ending his phone call with Carl as he approached. "Apparently she passed out about a half hour ago."

"Shit," she whispered, her shoulders dropping in relief and immediately feeling terrible for it. "I thought it was the kids."

"I know," he nodded, calm as ever as he walked up the steps to join her. He gently rubbed at her back, feeling the tension in it slowly dissipate along with her nerves. "Come on," he urged her.

With a quiet sigh, she led him inside, smiling sadly to herself as she felt him drape his jacket over her shoulders. She immediately noticed that the circle of people didn't seem to be moving as if there were an emergency, and again, she couldn't figure out why. "What's going on?" she questioned, taking the spot beside Morgan – finally getting a glimpse of an unconscious Andrea, laid out on the stretcher, looking rather pale for someone who'd just spent two weeks on an island. "Shit," she said again, running a tired hand over her face. She was still too drunk to properly process any of this.

"Michonne, thank god," Carol turned to her voice with an exhale of relief. "I don't know what to do," she shook her head, trying and failing to stay calm, which was generally unlike Carol. "They're saying Princess Alexandra is backed up because of the storm," she explained, referring to the island's main hospital, "and there's no other place that can handle this."

"They're sayin' she needs to get to Puerto Rico or… fuckin' Miami," Shane added from his wife's side. His voice was low, but trembling as he frustratedly rubbed at his forehead. "But nobody seems to know how the fuck to do that."

"And she needs to go now," Mike submitted from the other side of the patient. He'd been observing Andrea's vitals since she went down, and her blood pressure was alarmingly high. "I'm not an obstetrician, but my best guess is this is preeclampsia."

Michonne swallowed visibly, taking in all of the information as best she could while trying to work through her options. Getting Andrea airlifted from the small island at nearly midnight on New Year's Eve wasn't going to be easy, but it only took her about three seconds to decide that she would find a way to get it done. "Get her in the ambulance," she instructed anyone who would listen. "I don't care if they're backed up. Tell them we're coming and we're getting her on a plane." She let out a shaky exhale as the small group dispersed, and then turned to find Rick, both sad and sorry for the very sudden turn of events. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised, taking his hand. She knew the mood was long gone for them, but she still didn't want this to be the end of their night. Or their vacation, for that matter.

He nodded back – disheartened, but he understood. As much as he wanted to beg her to stay, he knew he couldn't ask her not to go. "I'll be here," he tried to smile. "Go save our friend."

She gazed at him for as long as she could, studying his chagrined expression, his disappointment palpable – as was hers – and she wondered if she could stay. If she should, somehow. But she quickly shook away the thought, knowing Andrea needed her. She squeezed his hand instead, swallowing back her sadness and the tears that wanted to come with it, then leaned in to give him a quick kiss, figuring anything longer would've been inappropriate. "Okay," she whispered.

He nodded again, looking to the floor so that he wouldn't have to watch her walk away. As if he could pretend she was still there if he didn't see her leave. But alas... "Okay."


	15. Split Screen Sadness

_January 2016._

Rick inhaled sharply as he pulled into the courtyard of 696 Darlington Road, gazing at the property that would soon be known as Michonne's old house. It was still a bit unbelievable to him that she was actually leaving, even having attended her going away party just a couple of days ago; even with the moving trucks sitting in the driveway now, but he'd been forcing himself to come to grips with it all.

With that, he hopped out of his car, taking in the mild morning with another deep breath as he maneuvered up the congested driveway. It was just as Michonne's mother was exiting through the front door, Andre leading her down the winding steps of the porch, and he greeted the two of them with a polite smile, doing his best to erase all traces of gloom from his tone as he spoke. "Good mornin'," he declared from where he stood, not wanting to startle them.

"Uncle Rick!" Andre beamed, recognizing his voice without yet seeing him. He took off running down the steps before his grandmother could protest.

"Hey, dude," Rick chuckled quite genuinely at his excitement. He picked him up with an exaggerated grunt, the two of them continuing back toward the house. "How are you?"

"We're moving today," he submitted, lowering his voice as if it were a secret from the wind. "Grammy is  _not_  happy about it."

"Well I'll be honest," he whispered back, approaching Andre's 'grammy' with a knowing smile, "I'm not too happy about it either." He reached out to her for a side-hug and cheek kiss, realizing then that they wouldn't get to see one another much after this. He'd made his peace with not seeing Andre and Michonne all the time, but the few times a year he got to see her parents would likely dwindle to nothing, too. "Happy New Year, Ms. Josephine."

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," she nodded, returning the peck to his cheek before wiping her deep red lipstick from his stubble. "How are you? I haven't seen you in several months now."

"I'm all right," he granted, taking the opportunity to set Andre back on his feet. "Busier than ever, but that's not a bad thing," he rationalized with a slight head-nod. "How 'bout you? How's retirement treatin' you?"

"Oh, I'm good," she returned, sighing in a way that said she actually wasn't. In fact, she began to shake her head as her mind revisited the situation at hand. "I'd be much better if my daughter weren't leaving me, but she's made it clear there's nothing I can do about that…"

He offered a half-hearted smile and a shrug to make up for his lack of a substantive reply. If he had his way, Michonne wouldn't be leaving either, but the last thing he wanted to do was undermine her decision by talking shit about it with her mother. "Well… for all we know, it might be good for her."

"Oh please," she immediately scoffed. "Is this what you tell her when you talk to her?"

"I think I told her some version of that," he chuckled awkwardly. He appreciated when Andre took his hand, probably sensing that he needed some reinforcement here. "I'm sad about it, but—"

"Why are you men so useless?" she interrupted him, irked by everyone's seeming nonchalance about Michonne's decision. "You and Michael. Just let her do whatever she wants. Ruin her career, ruin her life. Her father does it, too. You're all enablers."

"Well I know my place," Rick laughed again, "and it's not to tell her what to do."

"Richard, she'd listen to you," Josephine pressed, her perfectly-manicured index finger pointing to him. "She's making an emotional decision and of course she doesn't want to listen to her mother. But you…"

"Jo, leave him alone," a deep voice declared from the side of the house – it was Michonne's father, Roger, wheeling one of his daughter's suitcases down the driveway and toward Rick's car. "He's got enough to deal with without that one in there giving him trouble." He stopped to shake the young man's hand, hoping to also get his wife out of his hair. "Hello, Mr. Grimes."

Rick cleared his throat, always a bit jarred by Dr. Diarra's formality. Michonne said it was because he was a professor and that was how he spoke to students, but that never eased their interactions in his mind. "Hello, sir," he nodded, returning the handshake. "Happy New Year."

"How are the kids?" he asked pointedly. Ever since Lori's death, he found himself thinking of them often. "Do you all need anything?"

"He's doing fine," Josephine interrupted her husband's line of questioning. "You can't baby everyone like you do your daughter."

"I'm just making sure," Roger defended. "People don't always ask for help when they need it."

Rick chuckled, glancing down at Andre, wondering how he was going to survive staying with his grandparents for the next few days. "I am fine," he promised, though appreciative of the concern. "I'm good. The kids are good."

"I imagine they're not happy about losing their godmother now," Jo posited.

"They're not losing her," Roger cut back in before Rick could answer. "She's moving to a beautiful island, where they can go visit her and… frolic in the ocean. They'll be in paradise."

"And that's supposed to replace her being  _here_  for them? As she promised their mother she would be?"

"Oh god," Rick mumbled to himself, feeling an argument brewing – one he wouldn't have any control over once it started. He could see this had been a point of contention in their home for some time now. "The kids are gonna miss her," he interjected, attempting a lighthearted tone and a smile to match, "but they'll be fine."

"None of you have thought this through," Josephine pointed to the two men.

Roger gave Rick a look that asked him to excuse his wife, and he started to ask how his own mother had been lately, but it was then that Michonne came down the walkway with another of her suitcases in tow and the conversations ceased. Rick couldn't help but smile as she approached, seeing how happy she looked to be leaving. Comparatively speaking at least, because she hadn't been all that happy for the past year or so. She wasn't the Michonne he'd come to know and love. Between losing Lori and everything else with Mike, life had definitely dimmed her sparkle, so to speak. And it seemed that the thought of leaving this place had given her some of it back. How was he ever supposed to talk her out of that?

"You know I can hear you guys, right?" she called out to the foursome, her boots pounding against the pavement as she made her way to the small group. "Ma, I heard you from inside."

"I only said good things," Rick joked, stepping out of the semi-circle to give her a quick hug. He'd just seen her a few hours prior, but everything felt so drastically different now. So final. "You all ready to go?"

"Mostly," she shrugged, smiling to herself when she noticed the way Andre was holding onto Rick. She began to pick at imaginary lint from her son's frizzy curls as she gazed at her friend. "All the important stuff is done." But his glum stare was threatening to make her cry for the umpteenth time that morning, after she'd just promised herself she wouldn't anymore. "Don't look at me like that, Rick."

"I'm not lookin' at you like anything," he promised, attempting to smile genuinely. "I'm just lookin'."

As the two of them exchanged their questionable glances, Roger took duty of Michonne's second bag and urged her to get on with her goodbyes. "You're going to miss your flight if you want to keep standing here."

"That wouldn't be the worst thing in the word," Josephine commented with a smirk, her hands on her hips as she stared up at Michonne's emptied home – only a bit of the furniture remained. "Have you told Michael where his things will be?"

"I've emailed him everything he needs to know," she confirmed. "He hasn't responded, but…"

"Of course," Roger sighed.

"Maybe that means he didn't get it," her mother offered in his defense. "I find it hard to believe he wouldn't be here if he had."

Michonne bit her bottom lip to keep from speaking on the subject, always careful not to deride Mike in front of Andre.

"You think she would've asked Richard to take her to the airport if Michael had been doing what he was supposed to?" Roger remarked, his tone dripping in disapproval of his son-in-law.

"All right," Michonne quickly cut in, shaking her head at her parents. She remembered when they used to be so conservative – never would they discuss family business outside of the family, much less air dirty laundry. She supposed it said something about how they felt about Rick now, but still, she desperately wanted them to stop. "Daddy, maybe you should take those to the car."

"All right," he relented, doing as his daughter told.

She then looked to her mother, wearing the same unimpressed expression she put on when they arrived over two hours ago. But she'd been making her displeasure known for the past several months, of course, so she'd learned to mostly ignore it. "Gimme a hug, Ma."

Begrudgingly, she stepped across the small space to embrace her only daughter, closing her eyes as she squeezed her in her arms. It felt like her leaving for law school, except this time, she had no plans on returning. "Michonne," she whispered, swallowing back her tears. "You know that I am always here for you, right?"

"I do," Michonne nodded, her voice muffled by her mother's hug.

"And you can  _always_  come home."

Michonne rolled her eyes at her mother's investment in her failure, but knew that she meant well. "I know, Ma."

"But I will pray every day that you find what you're looking for, baby."

And it was then that the dam broke, Michonne's cheeks flooding with tears as she held tightly to her mother, inhaling her scent as if she wouldn't be seeing her again in a matter of weeks. She'd been wrestling with her choice for months now, vacillating between it being either the best or worst decision she could make. But there was no turning back now; she was taking the leap. "I hope so, too," she whispered back to her.

Meanwhile, Rick meandered down the driveway with Andre to give the ladies a bit of privacy, but he could hear the sniffles from where they stood. "So I was thinkin' maybe you could come over next weekend to hang out with Judith," he suggested to the six-year-old, acting as though he and Michonne hadn't already planned it all out. "Would you be all right with that?"

Andre nodded eagerly as he looked up at his uncle. "Can I come now?"

"Well Judith has school tomorrow," he chuckled at his enthusiasm. "But I'll come pick you up on Friday and you can spend the whole weekend with us."

"Okay," he agreed with another nod. "Can Judith come to Anguilla with me too?"

"Well, probably not," Rick gently and reluctantly denied him. "But we'll come visit you guys. All the time."

"Hey," Michonne called out to the two, halfway wondering what they were discussing, though her main focus was on saying her goodbyes to her baby. They'd only be apart for two weeks, but it already felt like an eternity to her. "C'mere, peanut."

Rick released the little one from his grasp, smiling as he made the beeline for his mother. "I'm gonna wait in the car," he quietly announced, turning for his Q7 just as Roger was closing the trunk. "We all set?"

"She's all ready to go," he confirmed, his deep voice boasting a rather jovial tone. "And I meant what I said earlier, Richard. You can call if you need us. Even if that one is gone."

"I might actually need you now that she's leaving," he joked, his eyes flitting to the ground as he thought about what life would look like without Michonne just down the road. For the better part of two decades, she'd always been close.

"You're going to miss her," Roger recognized with a small nod.

"We all are," he conceded, speaking for their full friend group. "Michonne is…"

"I'm talking about  _you_ ," he interrupted Rick's unfinished sentence.

He chuckled awkwardly and uneasily, unsure what Dr. Diarra was trying to uncover here. He didn't think it was a secret that he would miss her, but it felt like he was trying to imply more than that. "She's one of my best friends," he replied, biting at his bottom lip, slightly chapped from the cool morning.

"All right," Roger relented with a nearly sarcastic grin, a small chuckle topping it off. "Well take your friend to the airport. We'll see you on Friday?"

"Yes, sir," Rick nodded, a tense smile still on his face. He turned for his car and hopped in, figuring he could warm it up a bit while he waited for Michonne. Watching as she hugged her parents and Andre, all of them doting over each other. He used to be a bit envious of her two-parent upbringing – back before he realized just how hard it was to raise kids alone and his mother deserved awards for everything she'd done for him, not disregard. Still, it was nice to see an example of love that had endured so many years.

He smiled again when they finished their goodbyes, waving to the three of them as Michonne approached the car, obviously wiping at tears as she walked away from the place she'd called home for seven years now.

"You all right?" Rick asked when she opened the door, slipping into the passenger seat.

"I'm fine," she assured him, throwing her purse into the space behind him. "I just thought I got it all out at the party, but actually leaving is another story, apparently."

"You did cry a lot the other night," he teased her, waving to Andre and his grandparents one last time before backing out of the winding driveway. "Like, an uncomfortable amount."

"Shut up," she giggled. "I honestly thought this would be easier."

"You thought it'd be easy to leave me?"

"Oh god," she rolled her eyes, grinning as she did. Because the truth was, saying goodbye to him was probably going to be the hardest part in all of this. "No, not easy, Rick."

"But nobody said it'd be this hard, huh?"

She smirked at the recognizable Coldplay line, but kept her eyes on the barren Buckhead streets as they passed. Even in its Sunday morning emptiness, she was glad the city was still decorated for Christmas, as that was how she wanted to remember it. The best and most memorable parts of her life, save for Andre, always seemed to come at this time of year. It was why she chose to embark on this crazy journey now instead of the end of the school year. "It's not too late for you to come with me, you know," she declared, only half joking about the idea.

Rick glanced over to her, both curious and intrigued, but also unsure that he was hearing her correctly. "What?"

"It's something to think about," she shrugged. "I was talking to Carol the other night about her wanting to take a sabbatical from work next school year, so. She might come down for a few months."

"That sounds fascinating," he returned diplomatically, smirking as he made the turn onto GA-400. "But I'm not looking to blow up my life right now."

"Oh," she raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, trying to be more amused than offended at them. "So you think I'm blowing up my life?"

"I think your life already blew up and you're looking to start over."

"Mmm." She couldn't exactly disagree with that – between death and inevitable divorce, nothing felt the same, and not in a good way – so she didn't try to. Instead, she offered, "Well maybe we could both use a do-over…" She gazed at the side of his face as she waited for his reply, and she could tell that he was thinking about it. She wasn't exactly serious, given his whole life was in Atlanta – and Carl's too, for that matter – but it was a nice thought. Having something familiar in Anguilla with her. Someone who was also drowning in grief. The idea of them going to some faraway place and just... healing together, it was compelling, if nothing else. But also just a fantasy, she knew.

'It'd be nice," he eventually admitted, stealing another glimpse at his friend as they barreled down the highway, a small smile on his face.

Much to her surprise, Rick reached across the small space between them to take her hand, rubbing a comforting thumb over knuckles as he gently squeezed. She closed her eyes at his touch and didn't allow him to let go, not until he had to. And they rode down 85 just like that – quiet, somewhat somber, but mostly comfortable. She loved that their friendship had come to a point where the silence between them was its own conversation.

"Promise me you'll come visit," she whispered when they finally pulled up to the Delta terminal, still not wanting, and maybe even unable, to let him go. "Before the year is out."

"I will," he nodded, already thinking up dates in his mind. "Promise me you'll come back home every now and then?"

"I'll think about it," she grinned, just before the two of them reluctantly exited the vehicle to the busy, cold curbside.

Rick hustled to the trunk to retrieve her two giant bags, while Michonne went to his side of the vehicle to grab her purse. Anything to prolong their time together. She wished they'd had the forethought to stop for breakfast, even checking her phone to see how much time they had before her 10:30 flight. The tears were already stinging her eyes as she watched him roll her bags up to the porter. "Fuck," she whispered to herself. This was it.

"Let's just rip it off like a band-aid," Rick shook his head as he returned to her, already seeing her eyes glistening. He could feel the lump forming in his throat and he couldn't take some long, drawn-out goodbye that would leave them both crying in the middle of the street. "Come on," he grinned, pulling her into his embrace. Rubbing at her back as she gripped his torso.

"I miss you already," she chuckled, closing her eyes as she memorized the moment. She would need it for the rainy, lonely days ahead.

He smiled at the softness of her voice, then peppered the side of her face with short kisses, attempting to keep the moment light. "I love you, 'Chonne."

"Goddamn it," Michonne sighed when the tears surfaced again. She broke out of the hug, knowing that if they stood there any longer, she wouldn't be able to leave. But she took his hand, kissing the inside of his palm before letting him go once and for all. "I love you, too, Rick."

"Go," he encouraged her with a nod, noting that the skycap was waiting for her. And as well as he'd done to hold it together in front of her, the second she walked away, off to start her new life, he allowed his tears to fall.

_And I don't know where you went, when you left me but_  
_Says here in the water, you must be gone by now_  
_I can tell somehow_  
_One hand on the trigger of a telephone_  
_Wondering when the call comes_  
_Where you say it's alright  
_ _You got your heart right..._

* * *

_Present day._

"Hey. Happy New Year."

Rick glanced at the clock on the oven before turning to the sound of the familiar voice. He thought he'd have a little more time before his friends started to wake up, but he'd forgotten that Jessie was an early riser. It was how they became friends in the first place. "Hey," he half-grinned at her from across the counter before politely adding, "Happy New Year."

"What the heck are you doing up at 5:00 a.m.?" she wondered, scanning the kitchen for clues. The only one was the aroma of something sweet wafting through the giant kitchen – breakfast, she figured. "Did you even sleep?"

"I couldn't," he revealed, absently, tiredly rubbing at his beard with his palm. "Too many things on my mind, I guess."

"Thinking about your friend, huh?"

"Somethin' like that," he exhaled heavily. "Carol said the hospital was so bad here, they just had Andrea sitting in a hallway. So last I heard, Michonne was getting them over to St. Maarten and they'll be able to get to Miami from there."

Jessie nodded at the update, still a bit shaken by the situation. "It was so scary when she went down," she recalled. "They came back from the beach because she wasn't feeling well, and she was asking for a banana or... something. But she just started mumbling. I thought she was having a stroke."

"Jesus," he whispered to himself.

"And then the ambulance took forever to get here. Shane was freaking out..."

"Yeah, Carol said she had to give him something to calm him down."

"It was a mess," she sighed. "So I'm glad they're getting her where she needs to go."

"Yeah," he nodded back awkwardly, his stare landing on the counter instead of her face. "Me, too."

Still, she gazed at him, trying to discern whether his strange, solemn mood was actually about Andrea or because he was leaving soon and Michonne still wasn't back. Probably both, she presumed. Especially with all this going down the night of their first date. "So I guess things didn't go quite the way you planned," she smiled at him sympathetically.

"You don't have to pretend to care," Rick smirked in response. "It's fine."

"No, I do," she maintained. "Maybe because I kinda know what that disappointment is like. To want something, wait for it, and it's... unexpectedly ripped away from you. I can't imagine what it must be like to wait twenty years, and still…"

He quietly chuckled at the guilt trip she was laying on him – maybe justifiably so – but he nodded with recognition as well as contrition. "I'm sorry, Jessie," he spoke softly. "I really didn't know that was how you saw it."

"No, I'm exaggerating," she smiled back, obviously having failed at making him feel better. "I mean, I was definitely disappointed, but I get it. And that's why I can sympathize with how you must feel."

"Well I appreciate it," he nodded again, glancing back at the oven to avoid her expectant stare. He felt like he was on the verge of being blinded by the earnestness.

"I mean if you want," she began to offer, against what was probably her better judgment, "I can take Judith and Carl back with me so you can stay a little while longer."

Rick chuckled at the proposition, moved by it, in a way, but also baffled as to why she was still being so kind to him after he essentially broke her heart. "After everything… why would you…" His sentence trailed off, unsure of how to finish it without sounding rude.

"I dunno," she shrugged, flashing her dimples as she smiled shyly. "I mean, we're still friends, right? I'm not gonna go away just because you're in love with someone else."

He smiled, immediately thinking of his relationship with Michonne, how that was essentially the crux of it. They were friends before and after anything else. But that smile quickly faded as reality hit him like a brick – it was time to go home. "I'm grateful for the offer, but…" He shook his head. Even if he wanted to stay, he couldn't send Carl home with Jessie without feeling like a terrible father. "The kids start school Tuesday, so we need to get back to our routine."

Jessie nodded, understanding that part of it, but she couldn't help but think he was holding back for some reason. Something was wrong, she could tell from his tone, and she wished she knew him well enough to parse out exactly what. "Are you okay?" she decided to simply ask.

He opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to say that he was, or at least would be, even if he couldn't be sure that was the truth. But he didn't quite know what to do with the idea that he'd come to Anguilla for closure, to finally let go of his wife after two years of mourning, and somehow, he was leaving with a twenty-year wound reopened. But before he could figure out what to say, the sound of heels clacking against the floor echoed through the lobby and Rick instantly knew that it was Michonne. He let out a small sigh of relief when she appeared, but his next thought was that she looked exhausted. Still wearing his jacket, her curls fallen, makeup either smeared or disappeared. Like Cinderella after midnight… which wasn't exactly the fairytale he had in mind. "Hey," he greeted her plainly. Cautiously.

She approached him with an apologetic smile, sorry for how long she'd been gone and how little time they had left. She planted a quick kiss to the side of his lips, wanting to connect with him while also remembering that she hadn't brushed her teeth. "Hi."

"You okay?" he questioned, cupping her cheek, staring into her reddened eyes.

"Yeah," she decided in that very moment. "Just… sad for several reasons. How are you?"

"Hey," Jessie decided to interrupt before their conversation could become too intimate.

Michonne's head snapped in the direction of the voice, utterly surprised to see Rick's neighbor had been standing just a few feet away. She was so tired she hadn't even noticed her. "Oh. Hey, Jessie."

"Happy New Year," she tried to grin through the clumsy moment. "Any update on Andrea?"

"She was lucid when I was there," Michonne nodded, looking to her and then back at him. "Got her on a plane to Miami with another pregnant woman. But my phone died, so I haven't gotten any updates since I left."

"I was wondering why you were so quiet," Rick commented.

"It's been… a mess of a night," she shook her head, her eyes barely staying open as she did. "I just wanna lie down. At least for a few minutes." Her expression was asking Rick to join her, though he didn't seem to be getting the message. "Come with me?"

"Of course," he granted, already turning for the exit and leading the way to the staircase. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth when he felt her gentle grip on the hem of his t-shirt, holding onto it as they made their way up to her villa.

"Did you get any kind of meaningful sleep?" she asked him as they entered her quiet home. It was then she realized that she'd barely thought twice about Andre in the time she was gone, which was a huge testament to how much she trusted Rick.

"I didn't," he answered quietly. "Tried to get some last minute stuff done around here. Packed up the rest of Shane and Andrea's stuff… figured they won't be back."

Michonne nodded, but she was no longer focused on anything he was saying by then. "Come," she said, gesturing for the final flight of steps up to her bedroom. "We have, what, three hours?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I mean at least we've got that," she grinned weakly. Trudging up to her room with Rick in tow, she couldn't help but think how weird it was going to be without him there for a while. She'd gotten used to this – waking up, knowing she would see his face. It would be an unwelcome adjustment not to have him close. "We've gotta figure out how to get you back here as soon as possible," she joked.

"Why do you say that?" he asked obliviously.

"Because I'm gonna miss you," she frowned, figuring that obvious. "After these two weeks, FaceTime calls aren't gonna cut it."

He replied with his own faint smile as they continued into her bedroom, Michonne letting out a heavy sigh at the sight of her bed. "Take a seat," Rick instructed. "I'll take off your shoes."

"You're too good to me," she smirked, though his somber mood was giving her pause. She couldn't tell whether it was fatigue or something else. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he promised, following her to her side of the pristine bed; kneeling to the floor as she took a seat. Gently taking her leg into his hand, he started to unfasten the straps of her heels, pausing when he heard the rustle of paper, immediately followed by a giggle. He looked up to find her holding a gold-wrapped condom between her fingers.

"Carol was serious, it would appear," she shook her head, amused by the gesture. "God love her."

"That's funny," he returned, but hardly cracked a smile to sell the statement.

"Rick, what's wrong?" she asked, unable to pretend that it was a question of  _if_  he was okay when he clearly wasn't.

"Nothin' is wrong," he insisted. "I'm just not in as good a mood as you, I guess."

"I'm not in a 'good mood.'" Michonne's voice dipped and her eyes narrowed as she realized  _she_  was what was bothering him. "I'm just trying to make the most of the little time we have left right now."

"Okay."

"I know last night didn't go the way we wanted it to," she appended, gently pulling her foot from his grasp so that he'd look her in the eye. "But like you said, we've got the rest of our lives."

Rick nodded, knowing his disappointment was selfish at best, and still, he was unable to shake it. And he didn't want to pretend it wasn't there. Because keeping his mouth shut for all these years was how they ended up here in the first place. "I'm gonna be honest, Michonne, I wish you hadn't gone last night."

She opened her mouth to retort, but she was so dumbfounded, nothing came out at first. "...Andrea needed me, Rick."

"I know." He stared at the floor and then the ceiling with a deep, frustrated exhale. "She needed someone," he opted to say instead, "and as always, you were the one that came to the rescue."

"I cannot believe you're mad at me for this," she chuckled in disbelief. She instinctively sat back so that her legs were no longer within his reach. "Of all the things…"

"I'm not mad at you," he corrected her. "I'm not. I'm… sad, I guess. Because it was our last night. In a vacation full of one interruption after another, we finally had time set aside specifically for us, and it was still taken away."

"Rick, the entire point of all this is to have all the nights we want. What does one more matter?"

"You're right," he conceded, scratching at his eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb. "In the grand scheme of things, it's not that big of a deal. I dunno, I just... thought I could be honest with you."

"I know you have a tendency toward being self-centered, but this is just cold," she muttered, shaking her head.

"Don't do that," he balked at the notion, shaking his head. And he could see that this conversation wasn't going to end well, but he went on anyway. "She had Shane, she had a fuckin' surgeon. Not to mention Carol, who has to know this island nearly as well as you do by now. You didn't  _have_  to go."

"No, I didn't  _have_  to. I went because that's what friends do. You sacrifice for each other. You show up for them when it's inconvenient. Even if it means you have to wait a little longer to get laid," she scowled, feeling herself on the brink of tears. "And I know you know that, so fuck you for making me feel like shit about it."

"Michonne," he sighed, hearing the emotion rising in her voice. "It's not about the sex, and I know  _you_  know that. I just wanted to be with you." His own voice was hollow, hoarse from exhaustion. "After this year of us being apart, these two weeks have been… I dunno. Magical. Cliché as it sounds. And I just thought we'd be together at the end of it. Starting the new year together. The first day of the rest of our lives kinda thing. And then you just… left." He offered a one-shouldered shrug, unsure of what else to say about it. "I didn't mean to make you feel like shit about it, but I also didn't wanna act like everything was fine when it wasn't for me."

"I dunno," Michonne shook her head, feeling trapped in her frustration – both with him and the situation. "Maybe… at a certain point, we have to consider the possibility that this just isn't supposed to happen."

Rick squinted at her words, wondering if they meant what he thought they meant. "Really?"

"I don't know," she repeated. "I know I'm exhausted. And you probably are, too. But we went into this just assuming it'll work out, and maybe we need to think about that a little more."

He let out a small but derisive chuckle as he did think about that – how just 24 hours ago, he was ready to drop everything for her. Relocate his kids, leave his business. And that it was unfathomable to him that she was pulling back now because of this. "Maybe so," he mumbled, pulling himself up from the floor. His gaze scanned Michonne's room, trying to recollect the good times they'd had in it over the past two weeks; figuring this would be the last time he saw it for quite some time. "I'm gonna go finish packing," he announced, already turning toward the door.

Michonne knew he was lying – she'd spent most of the previous day helping him do just that so they'd be free for the morning – and she wanted to call him out for it. She wanted to ask him to stay; not waste the time they had. But she could tell he wasn't in the mood, not after what she'd said, so she thought it best to let him go. "Okay," she whispered.

_Two wrongs make it all alright tonight  
_ _Two wrongs make it all alright tonight_

* * *

Sooner than later, Michonne was pulling up to Anguilla's tiny airport, unusually crowded thanks to the storm, and dropping off her first batch of departing guests. She quietly let out the breath she'd been holding for most of the short ride, feeling the tension in the air with Rick right there in the passenger seat. The silence between them might as well have been a wall. And with the kids in the next row and Jessie behind them, she couldn't even attempt to breach that barrier.

"Auntie, are you gonna come to Atlanta soon?" Judith asked, managing to cut some of the tension in the van with just her sweet little voice.

In response, Michonne exhaled again, because she honestly hadn't a clue of what was going to happen next. "I'm not sure, chickpea," she answered her earnestly. "Hopefully for your graduation?"

"In  _May_?" Carl cut in, thinking that sounded like an eternity away. But then, he knew Michonne had a business to run, so he looked to his father for an alternative. "Dad, do you think we can come back for spring break?"

Rick turned his head only slightly, an attempt to avoid looking at Michonne. "We'll see."

He frowned at his soft but short tone, while also picking up on the distance between his father and godmother. "Is everything okay?" he asked. It was nearly the opposite of how they'd been the day before, staring at each other all googly-eyed whenever they were in the same room. Maybe their date didn't go so well, he thought.

"Everything is fine," Michonne said, opening her car door before the discussion could go any further. Even if she wanted to let the kids know what was or wasn't going on, she wasn't going to give Jessie the satisfaction. As she slipped out of the van and went to unlatch the back door, she made sure to paint a smile over her discontent. "We just haven't worked out the details yet," she explained to the kids.

"Well spring break is in March," Carl informed her, "so I'm gonna start looking for flights on the way home. We can even start bringing some of our stuff down then."

"You've thought of everything, huh?" she continued to grin, taking care not to commit to or encourage anything.

"Just trying to help."

She gestured for him to hop out of the car so that she could unbuckle Andre, stealing glimpses of Rick while he wordlessly released Judith from her seat. His obvious silence, a place she usually found comfort, was so loud to her now.

Once the van was cleared of people and their luggage, the goodbyes began – Michonne leaving Tara and Jessie with cordial but enthusiastic 'Nice to meet you's and empty promises to keep on touch. Carl reminding Andre to text him while they were apart, while Rick promised him they'd see each other again soon. He didn't know when, but no matter what ended up happening with Michonne, he wouldn't let another year pass with Andre and Judith not seeing each other.

Michonne forced herself to smile again as Carl came to hug her, wishing there was a way to keep him there with her. He'd become such a cool kid over the years – someone she genuinely enjoyed talking to; watching him grow into this little adult. "Your mother would be so proud of you," she sighed, brushing his hair from his face to get one good, final look at him.

"She'd be proud of you, too," he grinned back bashfully.

Her head cocked to the side, she held back tears as she went for the embrace, squeezing him as tight as she could, as if she could save their hug for later. "I love you, dude."

"I love you, too, Michonne."

She finished with a kiss to his temple before letting him go, trading him for the littlest Grimes, who already had her arms out, waiting for her hug. Michonne dropped to her knees and pulled Judith close, forcing her eyes closed just to bask in her embrace, those little arms clinging to her neck. She hoped she'd been a good mommy to her these past few weeks; knowing that she hadn't been the greatest in the previous year. Not what she could've or should've been. "You can always call me," she whispered to her. "You know that, right?"

"Even in the middle of the night?" Judith asked, already testing the waters.

Michonne giggled at her way of always managing to make her laugh with her earnest curiosity. "Especially in the middle of the night."

"Okay," she nodded, leaving her godmother with a big, wet kiss to her cheek, not unlike the manner she'd been greeted two weeks ago.

"Okay." She stood back to her feet, hesitantly eyeing Rick while Judith and Andre said their simple goodbye. A quick but undeniably affectionate embrace, followed by a wave from Judith. "I'll see you soon, okay?" She spoke as if they'd already had a conversation about this.

"Yep," he nodded in agreement. "Next time when you're here, you have to come play football with me."

Judith beamed with the recognition that he was talking about soccer again. "Deal."

Rick chuckled at their exchange, realizing that he was going to miss their ridiculous-yet-precious banter so much once they were apart. He was going to miss all of this. And to make matters worse, he was no longer confident that moving there was the end game.

"All right, let's get this over with," Michonne quietly declared as she approached him. She was out of words and full of emotion, which wasn't going to make for a pretty goodbye, hence her abruptness.

Understanding the sentiment, he hoisted his knapsack onto his back and went in for the hug. Like Judith and Andre, their contact was brief, but same as everything involving Rick and Michonne, it was steeped in subtext, thanks to their storied history. It was short because anything more would've likely sent both of them down an emotional drain. He capped off the moment with a kiss to her forehead, while she inhaled his scent, memorizing it for when he was long gone. "We'll talk soon," he promised in that throaty twang, rubbing her arm as they parted.

She nodded back, but the tears were already formed. She pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head, hoping to hide it all, but her trembling voice gave her away as she told him, "Let me know you got there safely."

And with that, the five of them gathered their luggage and headed inside, Judith and Carl at Rick's side, while Jessie and her friend trailed behind. Michonne smiled to herself when Andre's hand found hers, but it didn't stop the river of tears from flooding her cheeks.

" _All you need is love" is a lie  
_ ' _Cause we had love but we still said goodbye  
_ _Now we're tired, battered fighters  
_ _And it stings when it's nobody's fault  
_ ' _Cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of your name  
_ _It's only the air you took and the breath you left_

* * *

Several hours later, Michonne was sitting solitarily in her big kitchen, preparing to do an inventory of her remaining supplies. Le Palmier had been emptied of its holiday guests, leaving her and Andre on their own for the first time in several months. The empty halls would've normally been a welcome respite from the bustle of constant company. But after spending two weeks with the people she felt closest to, their departure left Michonne feeling lonely. And so she busied herself with work all day, stripping all the beds and bathrooms of their linen, prepping for her staff's return in the morning. She'd have new guests the following afternoon, so luckily, there was no time to waste moping. But the day was quietly turning to evening, and soon, she'd be forced to be alone with her thoughts.

"Andre!" she called tentatively into the compound for her son. He was up in their villa reading comics, and she wasn't entirely sure he'd hear her from the kitchen.

She listened for the sound of him running toward her as he usually did, but to her surprise, he answered from upstairs, "Yes, Mommy!"

She smirked at his response – apparently, he'd gotten used to a different routine as well – but she continued about her tasks without answering him, figuring he'd get the message sooner than later. Instead, she went to load up the dishwasher, needing to clear counter space before beginning. And it was then she noticed one random baking dish sitting on her stove, covered in foil. "What the hell," she mumbled to herself, already annoyed at the thought of having to wash something else.

Upon further investigation, Michonne realized the dish had a purpose, lifting the cover to find a full pan of bread pudding staring back at her. And she was instantly transported back to the group's first night on the island, her and Rick perched on the balcony just across from where she stood now, and he said – he insisted, in fact – that he would bake her something before he left. She hadn't thought twice about it since that night, but the fact that he obviously had, and went so far as to keep that promise made her burst into tears. Happy tears, for the most part, as she laughed at the thoughtful gesture; but she also cried for her mistakes – for being stupid enough to let him leave Anguilla thinking she wasn't committed to being with him.

"Mommy?" Andre called out to her, cautiously stepping into the kitchen as he watched his mother cry over the stove.

Michonne quickly wiped at her face, but knew it was no use trying to hide it. She'd been caught. "Yeah, sweetie," she sniffled, turning to him with her sad smile. She welcomed him into her embrace, closing her eyes as he wrapped his arms around the lower half of her body. "I'm just kinda sad that everyone's gone," she told him.

He nodded, feeling similarly now that he didn't have Judith to talk to whenever he wanted. "Is Carol back yet?" he wondered, figuring she could at least cheer up his mother.

"She's probably not gonna be back for a while," she confirmed regretfully. She realized he didn't get a chance to say goodbye after she'd essentially been part of their family for six months. "But we can try to give her a call tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded back again, but his disappointment was evident. "Why isn't she coming back?"

"Because she needed to be with her family," she said, tenderly running her hand through his hair. She shook her head as the words came out of her mouth, recognizing that perhaps Rick was right – she should've done the same last night. Maybe she wouldn't feel so shitty now. But she let out a quick exhale to recollect herself and glanced back at the dessert. "So it's you and me tonight. What do you want for dinner?"

Andre took a step back, attempting to see what was sitting on the stove that had his mother so taken. "What's that?"

"That's a treat for later," she returned, knowing where he was headed with the query. "And no, we're not having dessert for dinner two nights in a row."

"Mom," he groaned. "Please?"

"How do you know you'd even like it?"

"Did you make it?"

"Nope," she smirked, her eyes scanning the pan again. It had a perfect golden crust, sprinkled with raisins... she couldn't deny that it looked good. "Rick made it for us."

"Well he made good pancakes," he grinned, recalling the cinnamon flapjacks they'd gotten a couple of times over the holiday.

Michonne smiled back, hating that she couldn't resist that perfect little face of his. "We're eating a salad with this," she warned him before grabbing the the pan. "Go get some forks."

Together, the two of them sat down at the kitchen table and dug into the delicacy straight from the baking dish; Michonne savoring every bite, from the moist bread with its hints of rum and vanilla and coconut, and heaven, quite honestly, while Andre gobbled it down, simply enjoying its sweetness.

"You like it?" she asked, though already quite clear on the answer.

Andre nodded, his mouth full of bread, barely swallowing before answering her, "I can't wait 'til they come back to live here."

She smiled again, lacking the ability to form any kind of meaningful response, and she stood from the table, momentarily watching him happily devour the pudding. "I'll be right back," she whispered, grabbing her phone from the counter on her way toward the lobby. Quickly finding Rick under the Favorites in her contact list, she gave him a call, wishfully thinking he was back home by then. With the time difference, it wasn't quite 5:00 yet, but it was worth a shot. One ring and then voicemail. "Hey… it's me," she greeted his inbox hesitantly. She hadn't planned what to say, just wanting to hear his voice more than anything, and so, she didn't say much. "Ummm. Just give me a call, I guess. When you can."

_I called_  
_Because I just need to feel you on the line_  
_Don't hang up this time_  
_And I know it was me who called it over but_  
_I still wish you'd fought me 'til your dying day  
_ _Don't let me get away_

* * *

By nightfall, Rick and the kids had been back in Atlanta for hours and were readjusting into their home life. As best they could, anyway, after being gone from it for half the month. Usually, it was a relief to come back from a long vacation. The familiarity of one's own bed, not feeling like a constant invader of someone else's space. But this felt different. For Rick, at least. In part, probably, because Lori was officially gone. The empty mantle of his bedroom looked strange now. But more than that, he knew it was because he'd gotten used to Michonne. Her face, her place. He felt so far away from her, in more ways than one.

Which was why he probably should've answered when she called earlier, instead of declining it. But after a long flight, followed by a full interrogation in customs, he wasn't in the mood to be emotional with her. He wasn't in the mood for anything, really, other than sleep. He'd entertained the kids throughout dinner – Chinese food, since nothing else was open – and even enjoyed that they'd retired to his room instead of their own for the night. But he was falling asleep with them sprawled across his bed, back to their iPads and laptops, with a Harry Potter marathon playing in the background. He'd just dozed off, in fact, when his phone vibrated against his nightstand, effectively waking him. Because it was a text attached to Michonne's name, and he couldn't even try to ignore it this time.

**:: So I'm assuming you're home by now.  
** **I don't want to also assume you're  
** **ignoring me, but I think I know you well  
** **enough to come to that conclusion, too.  
** **I get why you'd be mad at me right now.  
** **But I don't want that to stop me from  
** **saying this, so... I just want you to know  
** **that I love you, Rick. I do. I was mad at  
you for being selfish, but I shouldn't ** **have  
let you leave here without saying that.  
** **And without making sure you knew that  
** **these past two weeks have meant the world  
** **to me. To have this 20-year fantasy turn  
** **into a reality, to be openly wanted and loved  
** **by you... it absolutely has been magical. I'll  
never ** **forget this vacation, Rick. And what you**  
said about it being the start of the rest of  
our lives? I hope it is. Let's talk soon? ::

He read her message three times before even attempting to respond. And he started to type out several versions of some long, drawn out response, admitting that she'd hurt his feelings today. How he couldn't believe she was willing to pull the plug on the whole thing simply because he'd said something she didn't like. He wanted to ask why she didn't believe in them as much as he did. Ask when she was going to fight for him – not just with words, but with actions instead of withdrawing every single time things got hard. Because he was tired of wearing his heart on his sleeve while she kept hers covered in layers. He wanted to say all of that and more, but his pride wouldn't let him. Instead, he traded his honesty for silence and simply set his phone back on the nightstand.

_Two wrongs make it all alright tonight  
We share the sadness  
_ _Two wrongs make it all alright tonight_  
Split screen sadness


	16. Lights On

"Ma, what are you doing?"

Josephine took her time turning from the cabinets that she'd been examining, though she couldn't help but continue to scan the kitchen as she answered her daughter. "I'm just looking," she assured her, her tone defensive. "You've gotten so skinny, I was concerned you didn't have enough food around here."

"Oh my god," Michonne mumbled, already beginning to regret her decision to ask her mother to come. After the year they'd spent apart, she  _almost_  forgot that she was an expert in being judgmental. "Can we just get through this list? I have to leave soon."

"Yes, I'm well aware that you have to leave soon, Michonne. I wouldn't have rushed down here otherwise," she reminded her pointedly. "I don't know if you're aware how much a same day flight costs to this place, but it was enough for my bank to call and ask if everything was all right."

"And I appreciate it, Ma," she was sure to say. "But there's no use in you being here if you don't know what to do..." She was trying, probably unsuccessfully, not to sound agitated, but her mother had been in Anguilla for all of six hours, and she was already driving her crazy. Of course, Michonne's stress over trying to make her 6:00am flight – and more to the point, trying to save her relationship with Rick – wasn't helping.

"Girl, go on," Josephine waved her off, dismissing her unnecessary concern as she continued toward the refrigerator. "I'm listening."

"So I've got four guests coming in today. Do you remember who's picking them up from the airport?" she asked, testing her so-called listening skills.

"Katie," she answered, not missing a beat. "I just check need to check them in. And a young man and woman named Branden and Jamilah, whom I've yet to meet, will show them to their rooms and take up their bags."

"All right," Michonne sighed, relieved that she'd taken heed of her instructions. So relieved, she elected to ignore her removing all the contents of her fridge. "So in the mornings, you'll need to handle breakfast for all the guests. Can you do that?"

"What about lunch and dinner?"

"Just breakfast," she confirmed. "We do a happy hour at five, but it's just a 'cocktail of the day' sort of thing. Ryan will take care of that."

"Now have I met him yet?" She returned to the counter where Michonne stood, setting cartons of coconut milk on the space between them before returning to the fridge.

Michonne watched for several beats, wanting to ask what the hell she was doing, but in the interest of time and her own sanity, she decided against it. "Not yet," she answered the question instead. "He'll be in around noon."

"Lord," Josephine sighed, shaking her head. "How are you comfortable with all these strangers coming in and out like this?"

"They're not  _strangers_ ; they're my staff," Michonne corrected her gently. "And this is a place of business, so it comes with the territory."

"It's also your home," she maintained. "Just you and Andre? Is that even safe? Have you researched the crime rate here?"

"We're fine, Ma."

"Can Carol come back once everything gets settled with the babies? I felt much better with her here with you."

"That's not part of the plan," she admitted, her tone turning sullen. She'd been constantly reminded of how much she missed Carol, even with all the other things that'd happened since they had to rush out of there. "She was always supposed to go home in the new year."

"But plans change, Michonne."

"They do. But right now, we're all just hoping Andrea gets through these next two months okay."

"Two months in a hospital bed certainly won't be fun," Josephine acknowledged, seeing the gloomy expression that had claimed her daughter's face. "But it's better than the alternative. And it's better to have professionals close if anything else does happen."

Michonne nodded, appreciating her encouraging tone. "I know."

"So. Back to this breakfast," the older woman sighed, remembering that time was still of the essence here. "What types of meals do you make for the guests?"

Michonne pushed a small, bright green box across the counter toward her mother before replying. "Coffee, tea, juice, an assortment of fruit, some sort of bread, and some sort of meat or seafood. This is full of recipes and suggestions," she explained, tapping the box.

"Okay, the recipes are a bit much. I'm the one who taught you how to cook."

"Well I learned to make breadfruit from a chef here," she retorted, her eyebrows raised, "so maybe take a glance at what's there?"

"Oh, well excuse me," Josephine playfully mocked her pompous tone. But she did decide to relent – albeit reluctantly – because she could tell that her daughter knew what was best for her business. She was doing well here. Against her wishes and better judgment, her baby girl had come to this little island and made a place for herself. A life for herself. And as hard as it was hard to accept that she probably wasn't going to come home anytime soon, it was a relief to see that her decision turned out to be a good one. "I'll look," she promised her, accepting the small box. "Your guests are in good hands."

"I know," Michonne grinned appreciatively. "I don't think there's anyone else I'd trust to keep Andre  _and_  run this place while I'm gone."

"Is that so," she replied a bit cryptically, already sifting through the recipe cards.

"Well, probably Carol since she knows the place now," Michonne appended. But her mind quickly strayed to Rick and how she absolutely would've trusted him with this – in fact, that was the plan, in her mind. But he was the reason she was leaving, so that didn't matter much now. "I dunno..."

"While you're standing there looking pensive, you wanna finally tell me what it is you're rushing off for?"

In response, Michonne cocked her head to the side, searching for a way to answer that question both honestly and delicately. It'd been hard enough to reveal to her friends what was going on – luckily, Rick hadn't exactly given her a choice there. But she didn't have the aid of his loose lips now, and the idea of telling her mother, who loved Mike like a son, that she had every intention of being in a relationship with Rick Grimes instead, was a bit terrifying. This was a conversation she wanted to ease her parents into, and here she had all of five minutes to explain it before needing to leave for the airport.

"I take it you're not off to Miami to see Andrea?" she gleaned from her daughter's silence.

"No," she shook her head. "I, um… I said something pretty terrible to one of our friends. And... it was the last day they were here, so we didn't get a chance to resolve it, and I really need to apologize in person."

Josephine nodded, though she could tell that Michonne was being purposely vague about names and details, which was unlike her – or at least it had been in her previous profession, and she liked to believe her daughter hadn't abandoned everything about her old life. "Would this 'friend' happen to be one Richard Grimes?" she decided to ask directly.

It was Michonne's turn to nod, her innocent, wide-eyed gaze making her look like the little girl that always got caught in her mother's closet, playing dress-up in all her fancy suits and shoes. "We're umm... a lot of things... changed for us with this trip."

She could hear the hope in her child's voice, but it was cloaked in a lot of trepidation, so she immediately reached out to take her hand, calming her. "You know, it's funny," she started to reveal, her tone measured as she gazed into a pair of scared brown eyes, "your father told me this would happen years ago." She nodded when Michonne stared back, obviously surprised, willing her to simply listen to what she had to say. "I didn't see it. He did, way back when you were in college. At your graduation, actually. He said you looked at Rick the way I look at him." She chuckled, hearing her husband's voice in her head; her smile identical to her daughter's as she thought about it. "But still, I never noticed it. I never wanted to, because you and Michael were so perfect together, and I wanted you to have a perfect life," she intimated. "I hated the idea of you being in love with a man that would never love you back, so I preferred to believe that your father had no idea what he was talking about." She paused, studying Michonne as she soothingly stroked her hand, taking note of her packed bag sitting just a few feet away. She understood now why she was running back home after she'd been so determined to stay away all year. This was a romantic gesture. "But he loves you, too..."

She nodded again, unsure whether her mother was asking her or telling her, but she knew it to be true all the same. "I know," she whispered, contorting her face to keep herself from crying. "You said you'd pray that I'd find what I was looking for," she said, hoping she remembered the goodbye they'd shared this time last year.

"I did," she affirmed, squeezing her hand. "I do."

"Well I found it," Michonne sighed, a broken smile on her face as her eyes welled with tears, because she had no clue how this was going to turn out. But she'd be damned if she didn't try. "Turns out he's in Atlanta."

Josephine quietly laughed in reply, hating that she would have to concede to her husband that he was right. But inwardly, she was beaming with pride, because Michonne was learning to live her life on her own terms, doing the things that she wanted to do. From the day she was born, she and Roger tried to set her on the path of least resistance. Get good grades, go into a respectable profession, and find an equal partner to share your life with. Because that was what they did. Because the world would be hard enough on her, and they wanted her to have a good life in spite of that. But it was actually quite inspiring to see Michonne take her life into her own hands this way. Getting to a place where you're comfortable doing exactly what you want to do? Maybe that was a perfect life. "Good," she said, gazing at her proudly. "Good for you."

* * *

"Hey, darlin'."

Rick smiled innately at the sound of mother's voice, her sunny southern drawl an instant mood-lifter when she picked up the phone. He could already hear Judith yelling in the background, and he wondered what they were up to over there. "Hey, Mama," he greeted her via his car's speakerphone. "I'm leavin' the office now, headed your way. Are they about ready to go?"

"You're leavin' already," she questioned him, though mostly talking to herself as she checked her watch. She was stunned to find that it was already 7:00 pm – the time she spent with her grandchildren always flew by. "Shit."

"I purposely left late so you could have some extra time," he chuckled. "Though we had a lot of catchin' up to do here, so you actually helped me out, wanting to pick them up today."

"Well you did take them away from me for Christmas  _and_  New Year's, so I had some catchin' up to do, too, y'know."

"My apologies," he smirked.

"So to answer your question, no, they are not ready to go," she told her son pointedly. "I'm right in the middle of cookin' dinner."

"Well how long's that gonna take?"

"Tell you what. Why don't you go on home and take the night off," she suggested. "I can take 'em back to school in the morning."

Rick chuckled at the idea, but he wasn't sure how he felt about having them sleep over at grandma's one day into being back from vacation. He was trying to reestablish their routine here. "I dunno…"

Cindy sighed into the phone, having known before even asking that this would be a fight – her older son had become such a stickler in his old age, and she'd told Michonne as much when they concocted this little plan. But she wasn't going to back down either, because even if this was all subterfuge, she'd also genuinely missed her grandkids over the holiday. "You owe me this, Richard."

"Mom…"

"They've got uniforms here. I have Cinnamon Toast Crunch for Carl and Judith is easy. I even live closer to the school," she reminded him. "So what's your excuse?"

"I don't have an excuse," he admitted. "I just want them back in school mode. Vacation is over."

"Lord, when did you get so boring," she teased him, her exuberant laugh filling his car. "The kids told me you were fun in Anguilla, but I don't know if I believe 'em."

He couldn't help but smile again, appreciating the way his mother managed to cheer him up without even trying. "I'm just tryin' to strike a balance. The same way you did with us."

"I know," she granted, turning serious for a moment. "Bein' both parents isn't easy. Which is why you deserve a break. Two weeks on vacation and you still had to see their faces everyday." She laughed again before pausing the conversation to instruct her granddaughter, "Judith, go turn off that pot for me, sweetie."

"What are you cooking?" Rick asked out of curiosity.

"Well your son asked for peas and rice, so I went ahead and made them some Hoppin' John since I had black eyed peas left over from Sunday."

"That sounds good," he remarked distractedly, his mind now on Michonne and how he missed her cooking. He missed  _her_. It'd been two days since they left the island and they hadn't spoken yet – by his own design, of course. But with a few days' space between them, and the kids gone for the night, he could use the free time to finally give her a call. He knew that avoiding the problem between them was never going to fix it. "I mean, I guess I don't really have a choice here, do I?"

"I already have 'em, and they're quite happy here. So no, not really."

Rick let out a sigh, mostly at the thought of being alone with his thoughts for the rest of the night. "All right, well y'all have fun, I guess."

"Don't sound so miserable," Cindy chuckled. "It's one night without 'em. You get to go home, kick back with some whiskey and just enjoy some quiet."

"Well they're usually quiet at home," he submitted.

"You know what I mean, Rick. Go enjoy your solitude. Walk around naked. Do whatever you want."

He laughed heartily as he made the turn toward his house instead of heading for the highway. His mother was such a hippie, but he loved her often unconventional wisdom. "Is this what you did when me and Jeffrey were gone?"

"Damn sure did," she cackled.

"All right, well I'm probably not gonna do that," he continued to grin in amusement, "but I am gonna head on home."

"You're sweet."

"Well I didn't have the best day, and just hearin' your voice cheered me up, so… I guess this is my way of thankin' you."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Nah," he quietly declined. "I'm gonna go home and just… try to turn my brain off for a bit. You enjoy the kids."

"All right, darlin'." She could hear this discontent in her son's voice, and it was hard to not just spill the beans right then and there, but she was counting on the fact that whatever happened, seeing Michonne would eventually cheer him up. "Well we'll give you a call in the mornin' on the way to school?"

"I'm gonna call them in a couple hours to say goodnight," he informed her. "But I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Try to have a good night, okay?"

"I'll try," he chuckled. "'Night, Ma."

Amused, Rick ended the call and turned on his podcast, allowing that to carry him the rest of the short ride home. It was actually a bit of a relief he wouldn't have to trek twenty miles across town to his mom's house in Smyrna. It'd been such a long day, trying to pick up where everything left off before the holidays, all while fielding questions he didn't have the answers to about Shane and Andrea. Listening to everyone's vacation stories, one by one as they came by his office to greet him for the new year, telling the same sugarcoated version of his own trip in return. He would enjoy going home to some peace and quiet – a vacation from his vacation, so to speak.

It was only another ten minutes before he was pulling up to his splendid Sandy Springs home, his eyes narrowing on it when he noticed some of the lights had been left on inside. Since Lori passed, he'd made a conscious effort to make sure everything was off before leaving for the day – she always used to get on him about it, and he was trying to do better. So he found it strange that he'd missed them today, but chalked it up to the forgetfulness that happened after being away for a while, and he continued into his garage.

When he walked inside, the alarm system didn't prompt him to disarm it; the bright kitchen that greeted him had an empty wine glass sitting on the counter – all of which should've worried him. This definitely wasn't the way he left things. But instead, it stirred something within him. An excitement. A hopefulness. He could feel his stomach drop to his feet as he stepped farther into his home, and he was immediately met with the vision of Michonne standing at his kitchen sink. Wearing a simple jeans and t-shirt and a shy smile, she was a vision – one he almost couldn't believe he was seeing. His face contorted into a frown, relaying his confusion and all the conflicting emotions that came with it. The ones that still wanted to be mad at her were at war with the ones that wanted to pull her into a kiss that lasted the rest of the night because he was just so damn glad to see her. "Hey," he croaked out, unsure what else to say.

"You said you wouldn't ignore me again," Michonne replied, her timid smile not fading as she took a few steps toward him. She could see in his expression that he didn't quite know how to react and figured that opening line the simplest way to explain why she was there.

He responded with a quiet nod, taking that moment to admit to himself that he was wrong for that. He'd reverted back to his 21-year-old form – the person who purposely hurt her feelings, wanting to make her feel the way he did – and that was a shitty thing to do. "I know," he eventually whispered, also taking a few steps in her direction as his mind filled with all the words he should've said while he was busy not talking to her. "I needed... I needed a minute, and I should've just said that," he nodded. "That wasn't fair. But—"

"Rick," she started to cut in, wanting to offer her apology, because she didn't want him to think she was there to pick a fight. But he seemed anxious to speak, and so, she wanted to listen.

"I um – I don't know if you remember this, but... when I proposed to Lori, you told me I was gonna ruin my life." He nodded as he said it – a simple statement of fact. "And I'd thought about it a lot over the years. Especially when times were bad with me and her, and I would think, you know, 'Maybe Michonne was right.' M-maybe I should've waited for you. And maybe you would've come around if I had." His voice was soft, almost hoarse as he spoke; as he stared Michonne in the eye. "But the truth is, I think this is how it was supposed to happen for us," he went on. "I think we needed to be who we are today... grown up. More self-aware. We needed the experience of knowing each other intimately in all these other ways. So we know exactly what we're losing if we don't give this a shot." He leaned into the counter, mostly in an effort to keep some sort of distance between them. If they got any closer, he wouldn't finish. Her expectant expression was really testing his resolve. And he needed to say this. They needed to talk.

"I shouldn't have ignored you," he submitted again, appreciating that she was allowing him the space to go on. "I saw myself doin' it and I  _wanted_  to be bigger… I wanted to answer you, but I couldn't. Because I saw you giving up on us – on  _this_  – and it hurt. I've been so honest with you. From day one, I've laid myself bare, waiting for you to do the same. Understanding why you couldn't, but waiting all the same. Half our lives we've been at this, Michonne. And we're here, right at the finish line, and suddenly we're stumbling all over each other," he shook his head, his gaze wandering out of the window to his backyard. His covered pool reminded him of the time they'd spent in Anguilla; how he wished they were back there now. "I just wanna be in love with you," he whispered, swallowing down his emotions as he looked back at her. "You don't have to be scared. And you don't have to hold back with me. But I do need you to meet me halfway. Because the only way this works is if we do it together."

Michonne gazed back at him, trying desperately to hold back the tears that wanted to slip down her cheeks as she listened to him speak. Instead, she softly chuckled to herself, because she'd made all these plans with the intent of surprising him, and it was all supposed to culminate with this big speech about how she wasn't sure whether they'd ended on the wrong note or if they were starting on one, but either way, she wanted to try again. How she wasn't giving up, and she wouldn't allow him to either. And now, none of it mattered – he said it for her. "I know that now," she nodded, both her tone and expression solemn as she took another few steps toward him. Meeting him halfway, so to speak. Relieved when he joined her in the middle of the kitchen, their eyes locking on one another. She moved to touch him, her hand cupping his bearded cheek while her thumb gently caressed his bottom lip. "I know that now," she repeated, assuring him that she meant it.

She then pulled him into a kiss with the same intent, but instead of reinforcing her resolve, she melted into him as soon their lips touched. And she found herself smiling when he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him with a quiet moan. In an instant, all of it felt so familiar as she hooked her arm around his neck, her fingers twirling through his curls as their lips smashed together in long and short kisses. She sucked at his top lip, slipping her tongue into his mouth before allowing him to return the favor. She could feel his heartbeat thumping against her chest as she inhaled him; as he pinned her against the kitchen counter, his fingers snaking down her body until he was palming her ass.

It was all such a giant, wonderful blur to Rick. He wasn't sure he'd even fully processed that Michonne was actually there; that they were alone and on the same page – two things that managed to elude them for much of their time in Anguilla. But as he felt Michonne's fingers move from his neck to his jacket, attempting to peel it off of him, he caught up rather quickly. This was happening.

Without a second thought, he kicked the kitchen stools out of their way before hoisting her onto the counter and swiftly removing his blazer; his mind already inside her pants, consumed with the thought of getting them off – or, more specifically, getting her off. His eyes clouded with lust as she sat there, staring at him, happily allowing him to undress her. While she kicked off her boots, his hands worked methodically slow in unfastening her jeans, first pushing up her shirt to reveal her wondrously muscular abdomen. He leaned in to kiss it, both his fingers and lips running over the ripples in her dark skin; his tongue licking through the lines and curves as her stomach flexed in response and she giggled at the ticklish sensation. Her fingers entangled in his curls while his lips covered any and every spot it could reach. All while he unbuttoned her pants, slowly revealing her lacy black panties. Reluctant to break contact with her skin, he licked his lips at the sight of those panties. He'd imagined, more than once over the years, his hands sliding them down her slender hips. And eager as he was to do it now, he continued to take his time.

Michonne watched him with a drunken smile as he seemed to revel in every part of her body. His eyes drinking in all her little imperfections, which normally would've made her self-conscious. But with Rick, she wanted him to see all of her. She lifted her hips, allowing him to pull off her pants, but she felt herself trembling just slightly as he pulled the fabric down her legs. From excitement, mostly, as she was struck with the realization that this was actually, finally happening. But a nervousness came with it, because this was  _actually, finally_  happening. She remembered the night it almost happened so vividly – the two of them on her couch, unmasking feelings they'd been suppressing for nearly two years. Now, nineteen years later, there was nothing stopping them. No Lori or Mike or guilty consciences to keep them from enjoying the hell out of one another. She could feel that anxiousness right down to her knees, just as Rick pushed them apart, taking position between them.

He licked his lips, staring her down in this t-shirt and panties combination that already had his dick pressed against the zipper of his jeans, he locked eyes with her, waiting for her to speak. To give him consent to go further. An eyebrow raised as his fingers gently squeezed the meatiest part of her thigh, his hunger apparent.

"What are you waiting for?" she breathed. She wasn't sure the heat between her legs wouldn't set him on fire soon.

"Permission."

She smirked at his answer, appreciative of his sense of morality in a moment like this, and she spread her legs wider for him, eyeing him as she did. "You have permission to do whatever you want to me," she whispered.

Rick took that opportunity to kiss her again, grabbing a handful of her locs to bring her close; his other hand slipping between her thighs, finding that lacy fabric again. His fingers slipped past the elastic to touch her bare pussy, her skin enticingly warm and smooth, save for a small patch of coarse hair above her slit. As his tongue explored her mouth, his fingers probed her lower lips, feeling familiar with both by now. He'd memorized her, especially the way her clit felt beneath his fingers. What made her writhe and what made her wet. She was already getting there, his middle finger lubricating with her juices as he gently pushed it in and out of her center, before trailing back up to her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Michonne could barely keep up with their kiss as he fingered her, an orgasm practically hanging over her head. It was almost a relief when he pulled back, allowing her to breathe as he focused on her neck instead. "Shit," she quietly purred, squirming from the feel of his fingers. They were so long and thick – she always thought he had nice hands – and god, he knew what to do with them.

"Lie back," he mumbled into her skin, her moans making him want her even more. He was desperate to taste her by then, her wetness driving him crazy. The sound of his fingers inside her was even louder than that of his lips smacking on her throat.

She did exactly as told, lying flat against the countertop, staring at the ceiling of Rick's kitchen. She'd sat in this place probably hundreds of times over the years – laughing, crying, gossiping... but certainly never this. She started to shake her head at this turn in events, mostly in some feeble attempt to rid her brain of any thoughts about Lori, but Rick had that covered, it seemed. Because her mind went blank the second she felt his tongue on her pussy. With her panties merely pushed to the side, he teased her with a long, wet suck of her clit that had her closing her legs on his head, both the surprise and the sensation sending her spiraling. " _Shit_ ," she grimaced at the pleasure.

He smiled at her instant reaction, his fingers tickling her hips as he took the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down – deliberately and seductively slow in his actions. His breathing labored as she became naked from the waist down; licking his lips at the beautiful sight. The kitchen's bright lights didn't hide anything about her gorgeous brown skin, already glistening with his saliva, with her pink clit slightly protruding from her thick lips. He dove in with his eyes closed, allowing his mouth to lead the way. His dick was threatening to tear a hole through his jeans as he tasted her flesh. Her juices slowly coating his tongue as he licked through her folds, taking his time to explore every inch of her. The scent of her arousal filled his nose as it brushed against her clit, his face buried between her thighs. She smelled sweet, like the tropical fruits they'd consumed all week. His tongue rolled up and down every crevice, his juicy lips sucking on hers as he moaned with delight. He was in heaven between those thighs.

"Rick," Michonne whimpered, her entire body writhing as he ate the hell out of her. She could feel the cum streaming down her pussy, and Rick's tongue managing to catch it. Long, torturously slow licks, seemingly coming from every direction. Her hips had lifted from the counter and she could feel her nipples turned rigid beneath the fabric of her bra, her toes curled tightly, her fingers submerged in Rick's hair, combing from the root as she tried to withstand the unbearable pleasure. The feel of his beard against her skin was an unexpected bonus, the warm fuzziness such a splendid contradiction to his wet tongue sliding up and down her walls, making her squirm. His soft hums and moans rippled against her body, better than any vibrator as it paired with his lips; his fingers gently stroking her while he lapped at her clit. She was barely holding it together. "God," she whispered to herself. "Fuck."

Rick continued to tongue her down, eating her like a birthday cake, so to speak. From the insides of her thighs, licking along her tiny stretch marks with glee, to deep inside her pussy, his face buried, his beard wet with cum. He felt himself throbbing, knocking on the zipper of his jeans as Michonne's legs began to shake. Her moans became louder, her breathing more chaotic as his name repeatedly rolled off of her tongue, only making him harder in response. "M'chonne," he mumbled, tasting her orgasm; his pink lips glazed with her icing. And he wasn't shy, not in the slightest, about licking up every drop of it. Lifting her body from the counter surface, he slipped his tongue between her cheeks, ensuring every inch of her had been serviced.

" _Rick_ ," she panted, unsure what he was even doing at that point. Her legs were bearing down on him as another orgasm claimed her body within seconds of the first. The most delicious wave of ecstasy that had her eyes rolling to the top of her head until she was looking at the refrigerator behind them. But lost in reverie all the same. She couldn't believe she'd waited so long for this. For him. She couldn't wait to experience the rest of him.

Breathless, Rick came up for air, licking his lips as he watched Michonne's gorgeous stomach expand and contract with her heavy breaths. He tugged at her t-shirt to get her attention. "You wanna go upstairs?" he whispered huskily. Hopefully.

Sitting up on her elbows, Michonne giggled at the thought that Rick Grimes just ate her pussy in the middle of his kitchen. "Gimme a minute," she nodded, still in recovery mode. "I don't think I can walk just yet."

He nodded, but to him, a minute sounded like an eternity. After getting a taste, he was uninterested in wasting another second of their time together. "Come here," he requested in a murmur, craving another kiss. And she obliged, her lips drunkenly smashing against his, and not because of the wine she'd nursed while waiting for him to come home. They were intoxicated on each other. His tongue was like a drug to her. In her haze, she gripped his head with both her hands, using his ears as handles to pull him closer. She wanted him so bad, it was unbearable.

And Rick felt quite the same, unable to wait, and so he swiftly pulled her from the counter and into his arms – much to her surprise as she squealed with delight as they kissed. With her legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on her naked ass, he headed for the stairs, blindly sidestepping her jeans and underwear on the way.

Michonne wasn't sure how far she'd make it with that hard dick of his pressed against her, his bulge massaging her with every step. And of course she was still reeling from the literal tongue lashing he'd given her. Their kisses turned sloppy, passionately so, as he trudged up the stairs. She could taste her pussy on his tongue, on his beard, even his neck as her full lips devoured him. She didn't even know where she was – or care – when she felt her back touch the surface of some wall, cold against her skin, while Rick's warm body pressed into her as they made out. She managed to remove his shirt amidst their kisses, revealing his full bare torso to her. No matter how many times she saw them, his arms always gave her pause. They were so perfectly sculpted, from his shoulder blades to his wrists, her fingers memorizing every curve of them as she held onto him for support. They roamed across his broad back, feeling his muscles tauten as he kissed her, his soft lips tickling her neck. "Rick," she moaned, her head practically spinning. The entire lower half of her body was pulsing, aching to feel him inside her. "I need you naked," she whispered.

"Fuck," he mumbled, feeling like he was going to erupt at just the sound of her velvety voice against his ear. He could hear that need and he was happy to fulfill it, still sucking on her elegant neck as he carried her the short distance from the hallway into his bedroom. His full suitcases still sat near the dresser, his king-sized bed neatly made, as if he were still on vacation. It felt like walking into some fantasy, this moment being realized. Michonne Diarra, half naked, her body wrapped around his. Thoughts of this had toyed with him since college, and finally, they were turning to reality.

And it all seemed to be happening in slow motion, thank god, because Rick wanted to savor every second of this. He lowered her to his bed, his lips claiming her mouth while his fingers slipped between her thighs, massaging her delicious folds to ensure she was still nice and wet for him. The feel of her slick, hot flesh had him hungry for her pussy, even though he'd just eaten. He was insatiable, it seemed.

Michonne reached past him, fumbling for the button of his jeans, aching to touch his dick again. She'd been thinking about it since their night out, how perfectly long and thick it was, imagining it fitting inside her the way it did inside her mouth. She was salivating thinking about it. Her hands instinctively guided her through unfastening his pants, all while he continued to fuck her with his fingers. "Take 'em off," she purred at his touch.

Rick stood from the bed to step out of his boots and pants, his boxer-briefs going with them, allowing his hardened cock free. It hung from his groin like another limb, and seemed to have a mind of its own too, visibly flinching as he climbed back onto the bed, his hands running up her leg as he positioned between her thighs. A small, nervous exhale escaped his swollen lips as his gaze landed on her shirt, the realization hitting him that she was going to be fully naked in a matter of seconds. He was slow to make his move, his fingers playing with the hem of her white tee, relishing in the heady moment.

He was thankful when she took the reins, pulling the shirt over her head and threw it to the nearest corner. But both of them paused when it came time to remove her bra, as she could sense his apprehension. The look on her face told him she was a bit gun shy, too, which eased his nerves – slightly, at least – but he remained frozen, his fingers simply caressing her stomach.

"It's okay," Michonne spoke warmly, her smile the same in an attempt to comfort him. She lifted her body from the bed to unhook the bra herself, understanding why that small task would stop Rick in his tracks. He hadn't been with another woman in years. And for the last two weeks, she'd noticed that whenever they got close, he tended to avert his gaze from her breasts – likely thinking of Lori and what she went through because of them. If they were going to be together, they would have to accept that little things would come up that evoked her memory. And that that was okay.

Rick watched with bated breath as her bra slackened, allowing her breasts free, and he gently pulled the straps down her arms to slowly reveal the covered skin; her dark brown areolas coming into view, transporting him back to her couch in 1997. They were fuller now – heavier – undoubtedly, from having Andre, yet still so supple, compelling him to lick his lips at the sight; watching as her nipples stiffened with her arousal. He touched one of the juicy mounds, biting at his bottom lip as his thumb massaged the pebbled bud, her tits so soft, they managed to make him even harder. With his focus back in place, he was quick to take the other into his mouth, his wet tongue licking at her flesh, his lips sucking at the nipple, making her moan.

"Mmm," she quietly purred, her fingers finding his hair as he devoured her tits. Voracious in his consumption, switching between the two, leaving one wet as he focused on the other. Squeezing and fondling her rigid nipples between both his teeth and his fingers, while his firm length rubbed against her thigh, all of it driving her crazy. She reached between them to finger herself, but Rick immediately stopped her, not missing a beat as he pinned her arm over her head. Which only made Michonne hotter, wetter as she felt the juices trickling down her pussy. She opened her legs wider, desperate by then, for his dick. "Rick," she breathed. "Come on."

He couldn't help but grin as he released her breast from his mouth, enjoying the sound of her longing just a little too much. He wanted to hear her beg for it. He sat up on his knees, gazing lustfully at her in all her naked glory as he touched his cock, stroking the glistening length. "You sure?" he smirked, licking his lips as his eyes flitted to her pussy.

"Don't," she started to whimper, shaking her head against the pillows when she saw the gleam in his eyes. They'd played this game before – usually with food – and she knew exactly where it was going.

"Don't what?" he asked innocently, a devilish smile on his face. It wasn't even a second before he took the head of his cock and rubbed it against her slit, making her hips involuntarily raise from the bed. It made him smile, seeing her innate reaction to him. He pushed it between her lips so that it touched her clit, eliciting a sound from her mouth that he wanted to hear again. And so, he did it once more, teasing her with the head of his dick, getting it wet with just the slightest taste of her pussy before pulling back. Seeing her juices dripping down her dark brown skin, he was hard as a rock. But the truth was, he needed to take it slow if he had any chance of lasting more than a minute. It'd been so long and he wanted this so badly, he wasn't responsible for what happened once he was inside her.

"Rick," she whined, her entire body squirming from his taunting. He was so close, his skin so deliciously hot against hers, she was literally throbbing for him. "Please."

That was all he needed to hear. It was all he could bear, actually, her quiet voice pleading for him. He slid his dick into her fully, the two of them letting out their moans of delight in unison, the sensation heavenly. Rick's mouth hung open as he acclimated himself with Michonne's wet walls clenching around him. He took hold of her hips, his eyes locked with hers, and began to gently thrust. A deep breath accompanied every roll of his hips, doing his best not to spontaneously combust. But she felt so fucking good.

Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, the pleasure nearly unbearable as he just barely began to pick up his pace. He filled her completely, and his stroke came like waves, rhythmic and fluid. Erotic and slow. He fucked exactly the way she expected him to – like he knew what he was doing. He was confident, and it drove her insane. It made her happy. It made her moan, and she did, loudly and unabashedly as his long strokes grazed her clit. As the minutes passed, she had to reach for the headboard, needing something to hold onto as this rapturous feeling overtook her body, but before she knew it, Rick was on top of her, holding her arms over her head once more. And so, he held onto him, as he somehow made his way deeper inside her, his scrotum knocking on her pussy with every deliciously deep thrust.

"Fuck," he breathed near her ear as he continued to work, though his arms were just barely holding up. The feel of her tits bouncing against his chest only added to the pleasure of being balls deep inside her glorious wetness. He began to kiss her neck, the sound of his lips on her skin matching that of him sliding in and out of her. He loved the way her body responded to him, her legs locking around him, her hips rolling up to meet his, writhing in time with him. "Michonne," he gently groaned, his head burying in her neck as he tried to stave off his climax. He'd waited so long for this, he wanted it to last longer. Forever.

"Rick," she breathed back, her toes curling as his body rocked both her and the bed, the headboard hammering against the wall. Somehow, the vast room seemed so small, so hot as they were wrapped up in only each other; they'd become sweaty, their bodies slick with each other's fluids as their hearts thumped together, their orgasms looming. Both of them holding out for as long as they could. As good as Rick felt inside her – fucking fantastic, in fact – the moment transcended the physical pleasure of it all. After so many years, filled with so many longing stares and loaded conversations and unfulfilled fantasies, finally coming together, mind, body, soul, was absolutely sublime. They may not have been in Anguilla, but they were surely in paradise.

Without even trying, Michonne managed to slip her hand from his grasp, finding its way into his dampened curls as he continued grinding into her. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't hold on any longer, the entirety of her body relaxing as she allowed her orgasm to consume her. Starting with a tingling in her toes before her thighs began to shake and that divine explosion erupted in her core, making her whimper with ecstasy. "Rick," she repeated, feeling herself gushing while he kept going. "I love you," she exhaled.

She barely got the words out before Rick's lips were covering hers, followed by what was easily the most satisfying release of his life. He came with a heavy grunt and allowed himself to spill into Michonne with reckless abandon, the entire lower half of his body going numb with his climax. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his fingers found hers, interlocking as he squeezed her hand in excitement and satisfaction and the delightful haze of being absolutely in love with the woman underneath him. "God… damn," he exhaled, carefully pulling out of her before falling onto his back beside her. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and feelings, staring at the ceiling, shaking his head at what had just transpired. Without looking, he managed to find Michonne's hand once more, because he was drawn to her like a magnet. And he held onto her. He would hold onto her for the rest of his life. "I love you, too," he spoke quietly, unsure that his heartbeat hadn't drowned out the sound of his words. And before he knew it, a tear was slipping down the side of his face, falling into his ear.

* * *

"Are you awake?"

Rick's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Michonne's tender voice and he shook his head before groggily answering, "I am." He really hadn't fallen asleep, but rather, he was reveling in the comfort of the two of them splayed across the bed, his head nestled in her chest, his cheek resting against her soft breast like it was a pillow. Her heart gently thumped against the back of his head. He would've fallen asleep if it weren't for the fact that he simply didn't want this night to end. "Just resting my eyes."

She smirked at his answer, nodding against her actual pillow. They'd been lying there for at least an hour now, half of that time in pleasant silence, and she found it funny that neither of them had drifted off yet. "Me, too."

"Are you thinkin' about anything?"

"I'm  _thinkin'_  about a lot of things," she confessed, smiling at herself as she attempted to emulate his twang. "I was just imagining us getting to do this on the beach someday soon."

He chuckled at her imitation, his eyes flitting upward as he felt her hand in his hair. "You ever had sex on a beach?"

"I have…"

"And you liked it?" he prodded. "Seems like it would be a mess once you get sand involved."

Michonne giggled in reply, but as far as she concerned, sex was always messy. As evidenced by the wet spot in the sheets located a few inches to their right. "You just need a big blanket and me on top," she assured him.

"Well I'm sure as hell not gonna turn that down," he returned, grinning impishly as he licked at his bottom lip. He absentmindedly began to rub down his dick with his palm, a futile attempt to keep it from going erect as he began to feel that familiar tingle. But the image of her riding him, the moonlight bathing her skin, waves crashing in the background – it wasn't one that would go away anytime soon. "I should be able to come down there after work Friday," he'd decided.

"Really?" She immediately lit up at the thought of getting to see him again in just a few days. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," he chuckled. "I plan to be in your face and in between these thighs every weekend I can."

"Oh god." Feeling her face grow warm, she covered it with her free hand as if it would somehow stop her from blushing. How did he still manage to make her feel like a girl with some silly crush after all these years?

"Unless you don't want me to…"

"Of course I do," she submitted. She knew he was referring to what she'd said about the possibility of this not working. Her questioning them. And even if he got to say his piece, the reality of the matter was that they hadn't really  _talked_  about any of that yet. "I didn't get to say it earlier," she started, her tone turning serious, "but I'm sorry, Rick."

"Michonne, I'm not—"

"No, I really need you to understand this," she interrupted him, her fingers still affectionately combing through his hair as she spoke. "Because I don't want you to go into this thinking I'm not in it with you. I shouldn't have said what I said. Not the way I said it, and certainly not at that moment. But I heard something in you that I really didn't like, and it scared me."

"So... you shut down instead of talking to me about it?"

"I did," she nodded. "And I have to do better." She let out a deep sigh as she realized she was about to confess something that wasn't going to paint her in the best light. "When things get uncomfortable, I do cut and run. I went to NYU to get away from you and Lori. I went to Anguilla to get away from Mike and Lori. I did it with you on Sunday, when you weren't who I thought you should be. And instead of just calling you out for it, I tried to get away from it. And you deserved more than that."

He nodded in response, appreciating her for seeing that. Because as well as he knew her, that wasn't even something he'd necessarily picked up on. "Are you still scared?"

"I think some part of me always will be," she confirmed. "I wrestle with it every day, wondering what I did to ruin my marriage. Because I can't just blame it on Mike anymore. And I think some part of me knew I never could. So I just keep hoping I don't do the same thing with you."

Rick let out a small sigh as his eyes scanned the ceiling, trying to think of a diplomatic response. Because he understood what she meant, but he couldn't wrap his head around her not having more faith in them. He wasn't Mike. This was different. "I guess... I just don't understand why you fantasize about failing."

"And I don't understand how you're so relentlessly optimistic."

"I dunno if I'd call it that," he quietly chuckled to himself, hearing the smile in her voice; his hand absently running along her thigh as they spoke. "You know how I was after Lori. I kept it together for the kids, but for that whole time, I just felt... dead inside. I wasn't happy, I wasn't necessarily sad. I was trapped under the weight of her death. And what I realized in Anguilla was it was  _you_ that made me feel free. You made me feel like I was living again. And I guess nothin' else beyond that really matters to me."

"Yeah, I kinda got that after you told me I should've left Andrea hanging," she teased him, grinning.

"She wasn't hanging," he sighed again, mostly in jest, knowing she was exaggerating simply to annoy him. "I mean, I understand now how that must've sounded to you. Like I was holding it against you for leaving."

"Yeah..."

"But you asked me why I wasn't in a good mood. And honestly, I think I'd run out of patience at that point, because I just wanted to be with you," he granted, nodding. "I knew it was a fucked up thing to say, but... I thought I could be that with you."

"You can," she promised in a whisper, her hand resting in his curls momentarily. "I'm with you, Rick. I always have been… even when I wasn't supposed to be," she scoffed to herself. "And I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like I wasn't. But I'm here. I'm in this."

He tilted his head up at her, stealing a glimpse of her face as he asked, "You jump, I jump?"

"Wow," she giggled at his silliness, allowing her smile to claim her face. But then, it was a pretty apt declaration. Meant to say that they were in this together. And given their history, there was probably no better way to say it. "You jump, I jump," she repeated in agreement.

"You know, we never did finish watching that movie," he realized, his entire body relaxing again as she resumed running her fingers through his hair.

"Yeah, because you fell asleep."

"I thought it was because Mike showed up."

"I mean, that too," she conceded, laughing at him again. "But you fell asleep first."

"I did."

"And you stood me up."

"I get the feeling you're gonna bring that up for the rest of our lives," he said, shaking his head. "If you want, we can watch it right now."

When she felt him begin to shift, presumably to find the TV remote, she was quick to stop him. "Don't move," she asked, her hand holding onto his shoulder. She smiled when his curls tickled her chest as he laid back down. "I just wanna be like this for a little while longer."

Rick nodded, appreciating her request. He closed his eyes as he listened to her breaths; feeling them underneath him. It was almost strange for him that none of this felt strange. Lying there naked, immersed in post-coitus conversation – it all felt so natural. Like just another day in their lives. "Does any of this feel weird to you?" he went on to ask. He knew it was a dangerous question when he was hoping for a specific answer.

"No, not really," she returned, not having to think much about it. "I mean, it's always a little weird when you make up after a fight. But everything about you and me, like this... it feels right."

"And it's okay with you that we did this in here?" he wondered. Given how much she'd fixated on their relationship with Lori prior to now, he was almost surprised at how uninhibited she'd been all night.

"In your bedroom?"

"Yeah. In this house..."

Michonne shrugged despite knowing he couldn't see her before answering, "It certainly crossed my mind a couple of times as I sat downstairs waiting for you. I used to hate when you and I were here alone, because my mind would always wander. Without fail, I'd imagine you bringing me up here, and we did some tawdry version of this before Lori could catch us," she confessed, her voice as soft as her touch to his curly tresses. "As far as this place being yours and Lori's... I dunno. I put most of it out of my mind by the time you got my panties off." The two of them laughed at her honesty, but it didn't take long for her to turn semi-serious. "Maybe some things are sacred and we're just terrible people. But I don't wanna be scared of a ghost, Rick."

He smiled at her charming way with words, while his fingers continued to tenderly run along her thighs. What a relief it was to hear her say that. "So... is it still considered adultery even though you and Mike are separated?"

She immediately giggled in response, her laughter causing both of their bodies to gently shake the bed. "In the eyes of the court, definitely yes," she verified. "Which would mainly affect alimony in our case, but… if he decides he wants to fight, he can have the money. We still have yours."

It was Rick's turn to laugh, feeling silly for assuming she was going to say something romantic about them still having each other. But he was admittedly glad to hear that she was already thinking that way; that whatever belonged to him – or her – was  _theirs_. "Sounds like you've thought about this."

"Oh, I've thought about a lot," she assured him, nodding. "It's what I do."

"That is true."

"But what about you," she pressed, curious what'd been on his mind since they were apart. "Have you considered whether you wanna keep the house once you guys move?"

"I've thought about it," he replied, smiling at the fact that she hadn't questioned whether they'd continue with their original plans. "Then I stopped thinkin' about it because I wasn't sure what was gonna happen with us."

"Well. Sometime in the next month, we should sit down with our accountants and really figure out our financials. Because I don't wanna wait a year for you to move to Anguilla. And I think you should keep your house, because I also don't want you to give up your whole life to be with me."

"I'm not givin' it up. I'm just… rearranging some things."

"I know," she granted. She loved him for how easy he was willing to make this on her. But if they were going to do things together, there had to be compromise. "But Anguilla was my thing, not yours," she reminded him. "Yours is here, and you worked hard for it. I don't want you to sell your business and your home if you don't have to."

"I don't wanna be in a long distance relationship, though. In the short term, that's fine, but I don't want you or the kids to have to live like that."

Michonne smiled at his thoughtfulness, appreciating that he didn't want to put her through that again. "Trust me, I don't either," she responded emphatically. "But… what if we spent six months here and six months there? We hire someone we trust to run the B & B while we're gone. We have to shut down during hurricane season, anyway, so... that's already three months we could be here."

"You'd be willing to live here half the year?" he looked up at her.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work for both of us," she said. "I mean, I don't know if that's the answer, but... we can find a way."

Rick grinned at her answer, while also totally unsure of how to respond. It was such a strange yet welcome feeling to have life give you exactly what you want. "We really should've had sex a long time ago if it was gonna have you acting like this."

"You're such an asshole," she sighed; and yet, she was unable to contain her smile.

"But do you disagree?"

Michonne could only laugh, causing him to do the same, the two of them filling the room with the sound of lightness. But she purposely chose to ignore his question in favor of her own. "You wanna hear something funny?"

"I sure do."

"So a few years ago, Lori and I made this pact with each other," she started to explain, trying to recall, as she spoke, when and why they'd done it in the first place. "I'm pretty sure she read a Times article about women's sexual prime being after they turn 36. I dunno. But your wife, the overbearing soul that she was, decided that we weren't having enough sex." The thought made her chuckle now, because this was probably not what Lori had in mind. "So we came up with the bright idea that we needed to have thirty orgasms in thirty days."

He threw his head back with another laugh, getting an eyeful of her nipple as his face landed in the valley between her breasts. "Thirty for thirty, huh?" he smirked. Though he was fairly certain he and Lori failed in that mission. He wondered if there was a time in their marriage where they even made it halfway.

"This probably goes without saying, but I've yet to get there," Michonne chuckled. Then sighed, as she knew their little agreement came at an especially rough time in her marriage. Some months went by where she had none. "I don't think I got past eight."

"Shit."

"Right."

"I take it self-pleasure didn't count?" he guessed.

She scoffed, confirming his theory. "If it did, I wouldn't have had a problem."

"Well," he grinned, just imagining her pleasuring herself – a sight he was looking forward to witnessing for himself. "We've got time." He figured she was revealing this little tidbit to him in the interest of giving it a try.

"Mmm." She smiled to herself, her fingers running down his shoulders as she thought of how Rick had already gotten her to three or four in just one night. And that number went up to five, if she counted the cab ride two nights ago. Their first time together and he'd already surpassed anything she'd ever experienced.

"How many've you had tonight?" he questioned, seeming to read her mind in that moment. His hand was already traveling up her thigh and headed toward the apex between them as he waited for her answer.

Michonne giggled, opening her legs for him as she resumed stroking his hair. "I was just thinking, it was either three or four? I lost count."

He grinned again as he sat up from her and the bed, already thinking about how he was going to get her to the next one. "I'm that good, huh?"

Michonne smirked at him, her gaze fixated on his semi-hard dick as he began to stroke it, positioning on his knees for what she could only assume was another round. "You are that good," she eventually replied, knowing she was only encouraging him. But she wanted more of him, and the feeling only intensified as she watched his erection grow in his hand. "I have a feeling we won't have a problem reaching that goal…"

"Probably not," Rick granted. He took her spread legs as an invitation and grabbed her by the thigh, flipping her onto her stomach as she squealed with surprise. But she was quick to catch on, getting into position on her hands and knees while he tried not to cum at just the sight of her perfectly luscious ass in the air. The pre-cum was already dribbling from the tip of his cock, and he used it as lubricant, rubbing himself against her opening while she closed her eyes at the sensation. "So how 'bout we say you've had three tonight and we go for five?"


	17. Free

 

"Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_." Michonne tried desperately to keep her breathy whimpers quiet, but Rick was hammering into her with that stroke she was still getting used to, and she could barely handle it. He had her at his mercy, his length sliding in and out of her and fingering her all at once, while she futilely gripped at their blankets just to stay upright. Instead, she just ended up with handfuls of sand, her juices trickling down her thighs, which only seemed to make her wetter as she breathed through the pleasure. "Oh god. Baby."

Rick felt quite similarly, trying his best to hold on as he fucked her, his hand on her sweaty, muscled back, biting at his bottom lip so hard he was close to drawing blood. He watched with delight as her ass jiggled against him; as her cum coated his dick, the tantalizing image only embellished by the moonlight. The sound of the waves crashing behind them accompanied that of their bodies slapping together, making for an erotic rhythm. "Shit," he mumbled, knowing he was on the verge of release. He wasn't ready to finish – he never was – and needed to find a way to delay the inevitable. "I gotta pull out," he warned her in a low grunt.

"Rick," she whined as he slipped out of her one final time, just as she was about to climax. She was ready to protest further, but much to her surprise, he instantly replaced his cock with his tongue, making her forget the mere concept of words in that moment. His kisses consumed her, wandering from one part of her body to the next without respite – from her soaking slit to her backside, down her perfect thighs, making her wiggle and giggle at his touch. Especially as he continued further, slowly licking down her calves, not stopping until he reached her feet. She licked her lips in amusement as she felt his tongue circling her soft toes. "Jesus," she whispered. As much as he liked to do this, she was still unused to the strangely arousing sensation.

Squeezing her juicy cheeks in his firm grip, he tongued his way back up, licking her pussy from back to front and side to side, smiling as he made her squirm. Her flesh was salty, tasting of him and the sea, and still, he ate her like candy. His face buried between her thighs, his nose touching her clit, he moaned softly as he licked through her walls. God, how he loved this. He'd been waiting to taste her for so long, and now, he got to do it every night. "Mmm," he purred.

"Mmm, shit," she replied in agreement, her hands balled into fists, her face pressed against their blanket as she lifted her hips and ass higher into the air. He was going to town back there, lapping at her throbbing center, showing no signs of stopping when the entire lower half of her body clenched with her orgasm. In fact, he used his wet fingers to intensify the feeling, gently massaging her clit just to make her cum twice. And it worked, her moans sounding more like mewling as she lost control, wetting his face with her juices.

Rick enjoyed his effect on her far too much, smiling smugly as he licked her clean, only receding when he realized her legs were giving out; when he was certain she couldn't take any more. It didn't help that his dick was hard as a rock, seeing how he'd satisfied her. He used the moment of repose to lie on his back, licking his swollen lips as a smile twitched at them, his eyes on the dark sky. He reached out for Michonne, hungry for the feel of her skin still, managing to find just her toes, his fingers tickling her feet. He inwardly wondered if anyone could see them. It was the middle of the night and they were tucked away in a corner of the beach, just outside the B&B, which felt safe enough. But if there was anyone out there, surely they'd heard them, even if they couldn't see them, which made him chuckle. He even kind of liked the idea.

"You better not be falling asleep," Michonne sighed, seeing his legs outstretched beside her. She just barely had the capacity to keep going, her body willing her to just lie down beside him, but she wasn't ready for the fun to end.

"I'm still with you," he promised, pulling his gaze from the stars to look at her – his sun. "In case you aren't keepin' track, I'm the one who hasn't finished yet."

With her heart finally slowing to its normal beat, she turned on her knees to face him, smiling at his thick cock staring back at her. Practically pointing at her, still slick from their fucking. Licking her lips, she mounted him, scaling her way up his body until her hips met his, her pussy touching his length. "Hi," she smiled at him, using an affectation that managed to be both silly and sexy.

"Hi," he replied, wetting his pink lips with his tongue. Her gaze demanded his and he gave it to her fully, just as she took his dick into her hand and began to stroke it gently. He started to squirm in response, his hips lifting and taking her with them, making her smile once more. His breaths became heavy as she milked him, rubbed him against her skin, leaving a trail of pre-cum along her nether regions. She used her free hand to untie her red bikini top, her full breasts spilling into view, her hard nipples leaving him desperate to suck them. He groaned at the torturous sight in front of him, all of it sending him spiraling toward an orgasm already. "Please," he whispered, squeezing at her thighs. He wanted nothing more than to be inside her again.

Michonne loved the sound of him pleading and was happy to oblige his simple request. She briefly lifted herself up, just enough to let him in, her eyes closing with delight as she descended onto his dick. "Shit," she exhaled gently. Her fingers gripped at his rippled stomach as she began to ride him, her walls clenching with every gyration.

"Fuck, Michonne," he grunted, barely able to keep his eyes open. Her hips worked like magic, winding and grinding; her ass jiggling in his hands while her tits jiggled in front of him, all of it driving him crazy. His body involuntarily responded in kind, beginning to thrust upward, sending him deeper inside her, much to both their pleasure.

"Mm. Yeah," she hummed. "Shit."

"Yeah?" Rick asked, clearly encouraged by her response.

Her short nails were digging into his skin, slick with sweat from all the physical exertion, and she was biting her plump bottom lip as he slid in and out of her like a piston. "Yeah, daddy," she moaned, just barely audible over the slapping sound of their fucking.

But he heard her loud and clear, unsure whether to be turned on or taken out of the moment, before ultimately landing on the latter. Smiling and breathless, he stopped mid-fuck to to talk about it. "Daddy?"

"No?" she breathed back, quietly thankful for the rest for her thighs.

He shrugged, his chest and stomach still heaving as his hands continued to massage her backside. "I… don't think so."

"It's a compliment," she grinned, still rolling her hips just a little. It felt strange to have him inside her without any movement, just filled to capacity.

"I know…" He began to blush, thankful that it wouldn't show in the darkness, because he didn't want to reveal his reasoning – that back in the day, he could remember overhearing her calling Mike some variant of the same name. And how he used to get jealous, wishing it was him she was calling out for. Now that she was, he didn't need the term of endearment. "It's just... distracting."

"All right," she was fine with conceding. She placed her hands firmly on his stomach, all too happy to resume their activities. Before he stopped her again, that is.

"Maybe you can come up with somethin' else," he suggested, oblivious to the fact that she was miffed. He liked the thought of  _a_  pet name – just not that one.

Michonne let out a hard exhale, in disbelief that she was in a conversation about this in the actual middle of intercourse. "Rick."

"You don't have to decide right now. I'm just puttin' it out there."

"Yes, sir."

"See, I like that."

"Oh my  _god_ ," she sighed again dramatically. But as annoyed as she was by the interruption, she couldn't help but laugh at him. She loved that this was their relationship. That twenty years of friendship allowed them the comfort and openness for such a silly conversation mid-coitus. When she called him Daddy, she meant that shit. Unlike when she used it college because Mike liked an LL Cool J song. With Rick, she said it in the grown man,  _god-you-fuck-me-good_  sense of the word. So it was pretty damn funny that he had such a visceral reaction to it.

"What?" he asked, both entertained and perplexed by her giggles. When she didn't answer, too consumed with her own amusement, he began to laugh too, taking her hands into his. "What is it?"

"I dunno," she shook her head, beaming in the darkness. "I just… love you."

He tilted his head upward, a wordless appeal for a kiss, and she obliged, lowering herself to meet his lips. She released his grip to cup his face, while he ran his hands along her back and backside, her breasts pressed against his chest as he sucked on her tongue. And in that moment, imbued in laughter, love, and lust, Rick was reminded just how lucky he was to have this woman call him anything. Namely, he was hers. "I love you, too," he murmured against her lips.

* * *

When the happy couple finally made it back to the bed and breakfast – after a nap and yet another round – the sun was just beginning to rise, making for a beautiful pink sky over the turquoise sea. Rick and Michonne were so enchanted with it and each other, it took them another few minutes to head up to their villa, only to find all three of their children wide awake when they arrived.

"Oh," Michonne greeted them first, surprised by the scene when they entered their home – Judith, Carl, and Andre, in that order, lined up at the kitchen counter eating cereal. She dropped her blankets and towels on the floor near the door before continuing inside. "Good morning."

"Morning," they replied in near-unison. Andre went on to ask, "Where've you guys been?"

Following closely behind, Rick reluctantly released the grip he had on Michonne's hips and immediately went to the sink to wash off the sand – and everything else – from his arms and hands. "It's a full event to get you three to wake up for school every day, but  _this_  morning, you're all up before the sun?"

"Maybe we were worried that our parents left us to fend for ourselves without saying a word," Carl suggested, eyeing his dad behind him before catching Michonne's gaze with a knowing look. "All night? Really?"

"Mind your business," she shot back, trying not to laugh. "We were right out on the beach."

"I didn't see you," he retorted, skeptical. But then, they certainly looked like they'd been on the beach, which only made the whole notion worse once he thought about it.

Her stare moved down the line of children, observing Judith, in her quietness, was the only one who didn't seem to be fully awake. She could just imagine her brother pulling her out of bed for this weird breakfast of shame. "Seriously, why are you guys up?" she asked, playing with the ends of Judy's messy pigtails.

"We couldn't sleep," Carl said earnestly. "We're excited."

"Happy wedding day, Mommy," Andre submitted, his excitement showing in physical form as he kicked his legs against his stool.

"Thank you, Peanut," she grinned, her eyes reflexively flitting toward Rick as he moved to stand on the other side of the counter. She couldn't stop herself from smiling – admittedly, she was excited, too. "But I'm not sure what you guys are so anxious about. You know we're already married. Technically."

"Have been for a month now," Rick realized with a small nod.

"Yeah," Carl allowed, gazing back and forth between the two people he called his parents now, "but now all our family and your friends get to see it."

* * *

_Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high  
_ _There's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby_

The July sun was just beginning to set as Rick and Michonne's family and friends gathered on the beach of Rendezvous Bay, right along the shoreline. It was a scene from a wedding website – the gorgeous blue water as the backdrop while bright flowers lined the aisle, giving color to the otherwise white decor. There was a giant wedding arch at the front of the audience, comprised solely of white roses and picturesque on its own. The music switched from an Otis Redding song to the soft strum of a ukulele playing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" – at Carl's request – just as Rick appeared at the back of the intimate audience. Judith and Andre were at his side with tiny baskets of flowers, all three of them dressed in some variation of white.

The kids dispensed their flowers as they walked – Andre scattering them along the aisle as he'd been instructed, while Judith carefully placed her petals in the spots that he missed. Rick could've and probably should've encouraged them to speed it up, but he only laughed, along with the guests. After all, the whole reason they'd decided to have this ceremony was because the kids wanted it. And they deserved their time to enjoy it. Rick locked the moment away for his memories of this life they were making – something to recall when they were older and less adorable.

By the time they finally reached the end of the aisle, Carl was on his way down, his hair pulled into a top knot, having traded his usual jeans and Chucks for khakis and sandals – the Anguilla version of himself. He smiled self-consciously as he passed family and friends, bearing the rings his parents would soon exchange. He took the side of the arbor opposite his dad and younger siblings, winking at them as they grinned happily at him.

Lastly, though certainly not least, Michonne appeared in the threshold of the makeshift aisle, beaming like the sun as she took in the view in front of her. The gorgeous beach, the family and friends she held dearest, and the four loves of her life in the middle of it all. With her parents escorting her, she let out a small sigh as everyone stood, despite her previous insistence that they shouldn't – she didn't want this to feel like a typical wedding. In fact, she'd chosen an utterly casual off-white dress for the occasion – a beachy halter sundress, long and flowing, sheer below the knee – to emphasize the informality of the affair. Her locs fell in loose curls around her barely-made-up face, her natural beauty taking center stage. But in the end, she was glad they stood, feeling a bit like royalty as she made her way to her king.

Rick's mile-wide smile only seemed to broaden as she got closer. He felt butterflies, despite seeing her all of five minutes ago. Despite the fact that they were already married. In this light, she looked different. It felt different. Like he was dreaming somehow, but wouldn't have to worry about waking up.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue  
_ _And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true_

Michonne welcomed her parents' kisses and well-wishes before gracefully taking her spot beside Carl. And as everyone else took their seats, Shane left his front-row view to join them. When his friends asked him to officiate their wedding, he thought surely they were kidding. He had no official title that would render their marriage valid, and his wife was certainly the orator in the family, if they had to choose. But they said they wanted a friend to do it. And having known Rick since elementary school, having some understanding of just how deep his connection to Michonne went, Shane realized maybe he was the best person for the job. He was glad it wasn't some minister that didn't  _know_  Rick and Michonne. This was a family affair, and they were keeping it that way.

"All right," he cleared his throat, surveying the small audience, hoping he'd recognize everyone there. Of course, before he could complete the scan, his gaze landed on Andrea a few feet away, holding their 4-month-old son; Rick's mom sitting beside her with their baby girl. Suddenly, all his cares were gone. "Good evening, everyone."

"Good evening," they replied in unison, sounding like a church congregation.

Shane chuckled, unsure why he was ever nervous to speak in front of roughly thirty people, most of whom he knew pretty well. "So I know I'm probably supposed to start off with that whole, 'Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today' thing, but that feels a little too formal for this occasion," he said. He looked to Rick and then Michonne, hoping they wouldn't mind him going off script here. He knew how Michonne liked for shit to be in order, but she was so entranced with Rick in that moment, she didn't seem to care, so he continued. "So I'm just gonna say welcome. Y'all know why we're here." He chuckled quietly when he got a few laughs from the crowd.

"I'm gonna be honest… when these two called and said they wanted me to do this, I thought they had lost their minds. I told Rick, 'I can barely string two sentences together, man. You don't want me talkin' to all these people.' And he just laughed, in that calm way that Rick has about him and said, 'You'll be fine. Just think about your wedding day.' And that's what I did," he nodded. He caught Rick's eye, wondering if he'd even registered that short conversation from two months ago as significant. "I thought about my beautiful wife," he gestured to Andrea. "How we saw each other the morning of our wedding, because she doesn't believe in 'silly-ass superstitions'. That's a direct quote, by the way," he grinned, mainly at her. "And I thought about how nervous I was after we left one another. How Rick had to calm me down when I got to the place. Him and my dad, they just sat and talked with me for like an hour. It was right before the wedding, we just... drank beer and talked about love and how life changes after marriage. So thinkin' about that day, it did help me with this. It got me to thinkin' about how all of us have these... these stories.

Some stories are short, some of 'em long. Some aren't even written yet," Shane acknowledged, using that moment to look at Carl; knowing his godson had a crush on a girl that had a boyfriend. "And some stories are just gettin' to the good part." He smiled at Michonne as he let those words linger for a bit. "And then there are chapters in all those stories that we'd rather forget, where they were sad or disappointing 'cause they didn't go the way we wanted. Of course that means there's also the ones that're exciting and happy and went exactly how we hoped. And I think, after twenty-two years, that's what this chapter is for these two."

"Amen," Jenny called out from the audience, causing everyone else to burst into laughter.

The bride and groom exchanged amused glances, Michonne smiling at her new husband as she recalled the day of their official marriage. They'd driven up to Athens to a little courthouse where overeager students often said their vows. They'd decided they wanted it to be in the place, the town, at least, where they met. It was a low-key affair, on a weekday, just them and the kids. But she loved that day. She loved this day, too. Because Shane was right – this was the chapter they'd been waiting for.

_Someday I'll wish upon a star_  
_And wake up where the clouds are far behind me_  
_Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops  
_ _That's where you'll find me_

"Another reason I'm glad they asked me to do this is because I have the privilege of knowing things about Rick that a lot of people don't," Shane went on with an impish smirk, knowing he was about to embarrass the hell out of his friend. "Michonne, I doubt he's even told you this, but I remember so vividly the day he met you. He came back to the dorm in a daze or somethin'. Because by some miracle, he'd managed to get your phone number—"

"To  _study_ ," she interrupted with a giggle. She wanted to make it clear that she hadn't set out to end up with this man – especially with Mike sitting just a few feet away. "I was bad at math."

"We'll go with that," Shane allowed. "Either way, that didn't stop him from posting the scrap of paper with your number on our bulletin board, and then standing there reciting it until he had it memorized."

As everyone laughed animatedly at the tidbit, Rick could feel himself blushing as he peered at his friend. "I fucking hate you," he quietly declared, shaking his head. But as he noticed Michonne's laugh and the smile that came with it – the one that was big and full and showed all her teeth and gums – he appreciated that Shane had given him this picture to remember.

"But," Shane proclaimed, waiting for the laughter to die down. "But... she had a boyfriend – our good friend Mike back there," he submitted, pointing him out to accentuate his story, "so all that memorizin' went to waste. Of course, that doesn't mean Rick didn't get up a little earlier on Tuesdays and Thursdays to pick out his clothes and make sure he had a fresh shave. And he came back from those classes a little lighter. I always noticed that," he commented thoughtfully.

Rick nodded back at him appreciatively. Even as embarrassing as it was, it was a great anecdote.

"Now I know Michonne thought she was gonna get off the hook here because we didn't live together, but I peeped you too, girl," Shane grinned at her.

"You have nothing on me," she said as a statement, but it was more of a hope. Because she could only imagine how the 18-year-old version of her acted around Rick. Knowing he had a crush on her, all while trying desperately not to like him back. Whatever he knew was sure to be cringeworthy at the least.

"Mike, you might wanna close your ears for this one, man," he teased him. "So let's take it back to Valentine's Day of 1997. When Rick and Lori, to no one's surprise, got into an argument that day, which – again, to no one's surprise – ruined their night. Now, just a little reminder, aside from being the most romantic night of the year, at least for dumb college kids, Valentine's Day is Michonne's birthday. And being the kind, warm soul that she is, came to our place with a bucket of chicken and a Blockbuster movie, and sat with Rick to make him feel better.

And yes, it did seem weird to me that she chose Rick over Lori that night. Of course, knowing our Lori, she had probably run off to do her own thing, just to get a rise out of Rick." He and Rick traded arch glances, his friend shaking head before he went on. "But knowing what I know now, I realize she chose Rick because there was love there."

Michonne grinned back at Shane warmly, relieved that his little story was nowhere near as humiliating as she thought it would be. She remembered that night too – she'd been annoyed with Lori for silly roommate stuff, but once she heard the argument with Rick, rearranged her birthday plans to come home early and hang out with her. Of course, Shane was correct – Lori wasn't even home when she got back, which effectively ruined her night, too. And instead of trying to be romantic with Mike, she trudged across the dormitory to Rick and Shane's and they watched  _Friday_  in misery. It was such a random thing to recall, but she loved the reminder.

"So my point is," Shane remarked, "this love story has been twenty-two years in the making. They've been friends all the while, with two decades full of little random shit that fills their book. Y'know, study sessions and those group dates we used to have. Graduations and weddings, birthdays and baby showers. The memories of all these crazy vacations we've been lucky enough to take. And then those quiet moments where you just watch a movie on the couch. Or fall asleep side-by-side, waiting for your wife and best friend to come out of surgery. The history between you two is the best part of your story, I think."

Once again, Rick and Michonne looked at each other, because they couldn't stop looking at one another, smiling in agreement. Awed by the fact that their lives would be full of those random little moments that would turn into memories. All this time, they thought they'd been waiting, but in some ways, they'd always been together.

_Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly  
_ _Birds fly over the rainbow, why then, oh, why can't I?_

"I know y'all had vows you wanted to say, so I just wanted to end this by thanking you two for allowing me to speak for you… about you today. I dunno if we've ever said it out loud, but Andrea and I wouldn't even know each other if it weren't for you two."

Michonne immediately glanced over her shoulder to Andrea, wondering whether that was accurate. "Really?" she mouthed to her friend.

"Michonne and Andrea were both pre-law," he went on to explain, "and Michonne's the one who brought her into our little clique. Same way Rick brought in Morgan, I knew Daryl. You two are kinda the nucleus of this whole thing," he said. "Rick wanting to know you, it intertwined all our little groups. And now, twenty years later, here we are, closer than ever. So thank you, Rick, for noticing this gorgeous lady. And Michonne, thank you for thinking he was okay enough to give your number to. Because none of us would be here otherwise."

"You're welcome," she whispered, her head tilted to the side as she tried her damnedest not to cry. She hadn't been sure what to expect from Shane, but he did good. "You did good," she submitted, affectionately rubbing his arm.

Shane grinned proudly at her approval, then looked to Rick to ensure he was ready. "You got this, man?"

"I think so," Rick nodded back. "Thank you, brother."

He shook his head in assurance that it was no big deal, then took a few steps back to allow the couple center stage.

Rick offered one more grateful smile to his best friend before gaze landed squarely on his wife. It still sounded insane to him – Michonne being his wife. After all this time… "Shane is, for once in his life, absolutely correct," he confessed to the crowd as he took his wife's hand. "Michonne and I met on August 31, 1995. I remember because the date was on the syllabus and it's been ingrained in mind for so long now. It was a morning class, so I like to believe the first time we spoke, as we were leaving, it was probably around 10:00 a.m.?"

"Sounds right," Michonne affirmed with a little happy smirk.

"And some part of me has been in love with you since August 31, 1995 at probably… 10:30 a.m." He smiled as everyone laughed, even though he meant that. "I've had a good life," he added emphatically. " _We've_  had a good life. Loving other people. Making these three wonderful little people." He broke eye contact with Michonne only to stroke the top of Judith's hair as she grinned up at him. "But I can't pretend this isn't the moment I imagined when you spoke to me that day. Today is proof that dreams come true. Today is proof that there's life after death. And today is proof that I have pretty good judgment, and I'd like you to keep that in mind as we move forward in our marriage."

Their guests laughed again, which made Michonne shake her head, but she was unable to contain her amused smile. "I will," she whispered.

"From the moment our paths crossed, you've captivated me, challenged me, frustrated me, and improved me in ways no person has done before. And I have fallen in love with you again and again over the years," Rick said. "Being your friend has been the privilege of a lifetime. Only matched by the fact that I now get to be your husband. And I promise to spend the rest of our lives captivating you, challenging you, frustrating you, and improving you. Falling in love with you again and again."

A tear slipped down her cheek and she didn't know how to stop it, not wanting to let go of Rick; unable to tear her gaze from his. "I love you," she whispered, beaming. "We've been so close for so long," she said louder now, allowing everyone else to hear her. "Like everyone's said, we were teenagers when we met. And you were never far away… not physically, not emotionally or mentally. And I'm sorry it took me twenty years to get to you. I was always so focused on finding a perfect ending to my story. But I've learned – the hard way – that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear, beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it without knowing what's going to happen next. And falling in love with you has been the biggest lesson in that." Her lips quivered as the tears fell, as she watched them stream down Rick's face, too. The sea crashing against the shore seemed intent on accompanying her words.

"You being here, Rick, it awakened my soul. After years of feeling lost and empty. I got closure when I came to this place, but you… opened me up, and I can't thank you enough. Because I would've missed out on this. I would've had to keep loving you in secret, thinking it wasn't okay, convincing myself that I was wrong for my feelings. But I'm so ecstatic to stand here in front of everyone we know and say that I love you, Rick Grimes. Fully. Straightforwardly. Without complexities or pride. Freely. And I promise to do so from this day forward. I vow to breathe life into you every day that I'm on this earth. To always meet you halfway. I vow to be the friend to you that you've been to me."

"You jump, I jump," Rick grinned, his words a murmur through his tears.

Michonne laughed, her vision blurring as she answered him without missing a beat, "I'll never let go."

_Someday I'll wish upon and star_  
_And wake up where the clouds are far behind me_  
_Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops  
_ _That's where you'll find me_

* * *

An hour later, the reception was well underway, with all of their guests situated around a long table, with Rick and Michonne at the head of it, their kids at their sides, while everyone devoured a wealth of food and liquor. They sat right on the dark beach, the sea as their backdrop, with strings of lights hanging over them, giving a romantic glow to the festivities. A series of Motown songs hummed through the sound system, but the conversation was lively.

Rick sat there staring at his friends – his family – as they laughed and ate their way through the evening. Shane and Andrea doting over their new kids. Morgan and Jenny sharing a plate of cherimoya. Daryl and Carol, cuddled up beside one another, probably making wry jokes at each other's expense. He even noticed Mike was engaged in discussion with Carl and Andre, undoubtedly debating comic books, as the three of them often did. Everyone looked so happy. Obliviously, magnificently happy. At least, that's what he hoped for them. Because he was. Finally. Thinking of his first trip to this tiny, magical island, with his broken heart sitting in an urn in his carry-on luggage. Being with Michonne hadn't crossed his mind in so long, and yet, the moment they were together again, he couldn't think of anything else. Now, his wish had come true, and this island was a place he called home. What a world.

He looked over to his wife now, smiling at her interaction with Judith, the two of them engaged in some mother-daughter conversation he wasn't privy to. He grinned wider as he watched Michonne playfully take Judith's cute little face and cover it in big, sloppy kisses; the two of them giggling as she did. Something else to add to the collection of all the mental pictures he'd taken that day.

"You're quiet," Michonne commented to her husband once she and Judith sobered up, the little one back to consuming her dinner. "You okay?"

"I'm good," Rick promised, turning her way so that their faces were close. He took that opportunity to plant a quick, sweet kiss on her nose. "I'm happy." Obliviously, magnificently happy.

She nodded, but she knew that much already – she could see it on his face, the joy twinkling in his eyes. She recognized it because she felt it, too. After years of feeling like she didn't deserve it. Wanting to punish herself for her mistakes, then running away from them. Life ended up being a lot easier for her when she stopped trying to control every aspect of it. She made mistakes. She had an affair. She quit her job. She did something that made her and only her happy. It seemed that Lori knew what she was talking about. As terrifying as it was to step out on that ledge, as it turned out, everything she wanted was on the other side of that fear. And she was so glad she jumped.

She took Rick's hand, resting their interlocked fingers in her lap as she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as she gazed at the gorgeous view of their family. And she smiled as she whispered to him, "So this is what it feels like to be free."

_If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow  
_ _Why, oh, why can't I?_

* * *

_October 2017._

It was just after 6:00 when Rick pulled up to his Teesdale Court address, his palatial home staring back at him. He immediately took note of the overstuffed mailbox, seeing that either Judith or Andre were clearly slacking on at least one of their chores. He headed on up to the garage and parked his car before walking back down the driveway to retrieve the post, making a mental note to find out which kid was on mail duty this week. He made it to the mailbox just as Jessie pulled up to hers, and he made sure to send her a neighborly wave; surprised when she stopped her car.

"Hey, Rick," she greeted him warmly. Eagerly, it seemed, as she leaned across her console just to speak.

"Hey, Jessie," he waved again, taking a few steps toward her car so they wouldn't have to yell. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she nodded, grinning at him. "I'm really glad I caught you. It's been a while."

Rick smiled back awkwardly, feeling like there was no good response to that statement. "I know we've been a little all over the place, what with being back and forth between here and Anguilla."

"Yeah, and it's not the same around here when you guys are gone," she shook her head. "But if I had the option to spend half my year in paradise, I would absolutely take it."

"It's been a good few months..."

"So I was talking to Michonne the other day and she mentioned you'll be here for another month?"

"Yeah, it's gettin' close to the holidays, which is peak tourist time down there," he nodded. "So we're gonna head down after Thanksgiving to get ready."

"So you'll be here Halloween?"

"Yeah…" He answered her skeptically, knowing they hadn't exchanged this many words all year; hadn't interacted for more than thirty seconds, really, since Anguilla. He knew that she spoke with Michonne on occasion, sometimes finding them in conversation when he left for work in the morning, but she seemed to be actively avoiding him for the last ten months. And he understood that. This sudden change of heart, however, was strange. "What's happening on Halloween?"

"Don't sound so scared," she chuckled. "I'm having a party. Adults only. I want you guys to come."

"Oh. Okay."

"I tried to tell Michonne, but she had to run off, so I'm telling you," she explained, noting his obvious perplexion. "Invite all your friends, okay?"

"Will do," he promised, his gaze drifting up to his house, his focus now on his wife, more curious about why she'd run off than anything else. But it was nice to know that Jessie wasn't still hurt or angry over what happened – or didn't happen, rather. It was something that always gnawed at him whenever he saw her.

"All right, I'm gonna head on in. It's been a long day."

"Yeah, I forgot I need to get dinner inside," he acknowledged, backing toward his mailbox again. "I'll see you around."

"You will," she grinned, waving to him before rolling up her window. She took a deep breath, glad that she'd forced herself to do that – glad that she could text her therapist to say there was another thing she could cross off her list – and headed up her driveway.

Meanwhile, Rick absentmindedly sifted through the incoming mail, mostly bills, as he strolled back to his car. He grabbed the armful of groceries and headed inside, only to be greeted by silence. Michonne's car was in the garage, so he knew everyone was home, but the quietness seemed to say otherwise. He dropped his bags and mail to the kitchen counter, observing a cutting tray of already seasoned chicken sitting near the stove, leaving him questioning why the kids asked him to bring home dinner in the first place. "Hello?" he called into the house, taking a few steps toward the staircase, thinking perhaps they were all upstairs.

"We're in here, Dad," Carl's deep voice called him into the family room.

Rick followed the sound, finding his three children lounging around the large room, quietly engaged in their own versions of homework – much to his delight since it was typically a fight with at least one of them every evening. "Hey," he greeted them. A chorus of 'Hi's followed before everyone went back to their respective tasks. "Which one of you texted me about needing dinner?" he asked.

"I did," Judith confessed, raising her hand. "I'm  _so_  hungry, Daddy."

He looked back into the kitchen at the prepped chicken, still wondering why he spent an extra thirty minutes stopping at Whole Foods when he clearly could've been at home. "Where's your mother?" he asked anyone who would answer.

"She's upstairs," Carl shrugged, his eyes glued to his computer screen. "She had gotten started on dinner, but then all of a sudden, she told us to just order something."

"And none of you found that strange?"

"I dunno, I just figured she was missing an ingredient she needed or something."

Rick only rolled his eyes, a small chuckle following it, thinking maybe they were a little too accustomed to this new setup they had. "Well I got you a salmon salad," he told Carl. "Andre, Judith, there's grilled chicken pasta in there for you. And regular salads."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I'm gonna check on Michonne," he declared, implying that Carl was now responsible for making sure his stepbrother and sister were fed. As the kids scampered off toward the bathroom to wash their hands, Rick continued up the steps to find his wife. He did so quietly, in case she'd decided she needed a nap – she'd been so busy lately, preparing the family to move back to Anguilla; making sure reservations and payments were all in order for the holidays. They were already booked solid for the next several months, mostly thanks to her. It would've made sense if she needed a break.

But when he made it to their bedroom, the bed was empty with no sign that she'd been in it recently. "Michonne," he called out, padding over to their closet in his search, just before hearing the bathroom toilet flush.

"Carl?" Michonne eventually replied, her voice coming back hoarse.

"It's me," Rick said, immediately moving to find her. "I'm home." He cautiously entered their large, lavish master bath, her silence a bit alarming when she didn't come out from the little cove that housed the commode. "Michonne?"

"I'm in here," she announced, kicking open the door so that he could see her perched beside the toilet bowl. "Hey."

"Hey." He wasn't quite sure what to say as his mind began to race, a smile trying to tug at his lips. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but all he could think about was the last time he found her like this. "You okay?"

"Third day in a row I've spent most of the day by the toilet," she confessed, her wide-eyed stare trying to determine his expression, see how he felt about this. "I don't think it's the flu…"

Rick breathed through a rather pregnant pause as he processed the information she was giving him. As he calculated how long they'd been together, when it most likely happened, and what it would mean for them, their family, their plans... His ghost of a smile turned to a full-fledged one as he inched toward her. "Yeah?" he questioned.

She wasn't 100% sure. She wouldn't be until she saw a doctor, of course. But this was what it felt like with Andre, only amplified by about ten. "Yeah…"

He checked his watch, noting the late hour, and he recalled her theory about girls being more difficult pregnancies than boys. The fact that her morning sickness was more of an all-day ailment certainly made him raise an eyebrow. "So we're thinkin' it's a girl?"

She grinned through her discomfort, genuinely moved by the thought of some little kid running around with her face and his everything else. She liked the sound of that. "That'd be nice."

"If it is, I think we should name her Elizabeth."

"What?" Michonne scrunched her face at the suggestion. "Why?"

"It's where she was conceived. Probably."

"As in  _Port_  Elizabeth?" she nearly shrieked while also doing her best not to laugh at his silliness. While he was probably right about them making this kid on their honeymoon – because they got it  _in_  that week – she had no intention of naming her kid after a place where they'd had a lot of sex. "I'm not doing this with you."

He grinned, assuring her that he was joking. For now, at least. But most importantly, his uncontainable smile expressed just how happy he was. He gazed at her with a racing heart, noting that her eyes were starting to water as she stared back with her own quiet, proud smile. In turn, he began to tear up, too, silence taking the place of words. Perhaps because there was nothing to be said.

Rick took that opportunity to join her on the floor, wiping his eyes with the knuckle of his index finger as he kneeled by her side. He pulled her into a gentle hug while she buried her head in his chest, relishing in his warm touch. Somehow, he made sitting on the hard bathroom floor so comfortable. He made her forget about nausea and swollen breasts and aching joints. He just made her happy. "We're gonna have four kids," she mumbled against his shirt, leaving a tiny stain of teardrops in the fabric. "Are we sure we wanna do this to ourselves?"

He laughed in reply, shaking the two of them as he did. But the truth was, he couldn't have been more sure. He'd been waiting half his life for his life to begin. "Yeah. I'm sure."

-End-


End file.
